Short storyRomance

After 13 Years

73 min read · 14,683 words · free · 22 views

Chapter 1: Chapter One -The Story I Never Wrote

I had a Wattpad account for thirteen years before I finally became a writer.

Thirteen years.

That number had always seemed almost impossible whenever I said it out loud.

Thirteen years ago, I had been younger, more hopeful, and convinced I would eventually become the kind of person who actually finished the stories she started.

I had created the account.

I had chosen a username.

I had spent hours scrolling through stories.

I had saved books I promised myself I would read.

I had even written a few opening paragraphs.

But I never published anything.

Not one chapter.

Not one story.

Nothing.

My profile sat quietly on the internet like an abandoned house with the lights still on.

Until tonight.

I stared at my laptop screen while the blinking cursor waited patiently for me to decide whether I was actually going to do this.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of my laptop and the occasional sound of traffic outside my window.

A cup of coffee sat beside me, forgotten and cold.

My phone was face-down.

The lights were low.

And for the first time in thirteen years, the empty Wattpad page didn't feel intimidating.

It felt like an invitation.

I smiled.

"Okay," I whispered.

My fingers moved toward the keyboard.

Title: After 13 Years

I stared at the words.

Then I laughed quietly.

Of course that was what I was going to call it.

It felt almost too obvious.

I opened a new document.

For several minutes, I didn't type anything.

Then I wrote:

I had a Wattpad account for thirteen years before I finally became a writer.

I stopped.

Read it again.

Then smiled.

Maybe this could actually work.

I continued.

Her name was Avery Rose.

Avery.

I had always liked that name.

She was twenty-seven, independent, stubborn, and secretly terrified that she was running out of time to become the person she was supposed to be.

She lived in a city she loved but didn't feel like she belonged in.

She worked at a small beauty studio during the day and wrote at night.

She had a complicated relationship with her mother.

A best friend who knew too much.

An ex she absolutely refused to talk about.

And a dream she had almost given up on.

I typed faster.

Avery was everything I wished I could sometimes be.

Confident.

Fearless.

Beautiful in a way that didn't require anyone else's approval.

She didn't wait for permission.

She simply went after what she wanted.

I paused.

Then I added one more thing.

Avery was lonely.

Not the kind of lonely that came from being alone.

The kind that came from being surrounded by people and still feeling like nobody really saw you.

That line made me stop.

My smile disappeared.

Because that wasn't Avery.

That was me.

I leaned back in my chair.

"Okay," I whispered. "Maybe we're making this a little too personal."

I almost deleted the entire paragraph.

Instead, I kept writing.

Avery had a dream of opening her own beauty studio.

She wanted a life that felt beautiful—not because it looked perfect on Instagram, but because it actually belonged to her.

And then there was him.

I needed a name.

I thought for a moment.

Elias.

No.

Too serious.

Julian.

Too predictable.

Noah.

Too sweet.

I smiled.

Luca.

Yes.

Luca Bennett.

Twenty-nine.

Dark hair.

Brown eyes.

Quiet.

Confident.

The kind of man who didn't need to announce that he had entered a room because everyone noticed anyway.

I wrote his first scene.

Avery met Luca on a rainy Thursday night.

They reached for the same umbrella outside a coffee shop.

Their hands touched.

He looked at her.

She looked at him.

And—

I stopped.

My phone buzzed.

I jumped.

I looked at the screen.

A notification.

My heart settled when I realized it was only an email.

I sighed and tossed the phone back onto the desk.

"Focus."

I turned back to my laptop.

Then froze.

My fingers hadn't touched the keyboard.

But there was a new sentence on the screen.

I stared at it.

He was already waiting for her.

I frowned.

I hadn't written that.

Maybe I had.

Maybe I'd typed it without realizing.

I clicked the undo button.

The sentence disappeared.

I laughed nervously.

"Okay. I'm tired."

I saved the document.

Then decided I was done for the night.

Tomorrow, I'd come back to it.

Tomorrow, I'd figure out where the story was going.

Tomorrow, I'd introduce Luca properly.

I closed my laptop.

Turned off the lamp.

And climbed into bed.

For the first time in years, I fell asleep excited about something I had created.

3:17 A.M.

My phone buzzed.

I opened my eyes.

The room was completely dark.

For a moment, I didn't know where I was.

Then my phone buzzed again.

I reached for it.

A Wattpad notification.

I frowned.

I hadn't published anything.

I hadn't even told anyone I was writing.

I unlocked my phone.

Someone commented on your story.

My stomach tightened.

I opened the notification.

There was only one comment.

No profile picture.

No username I recognized.

Just a blank account.

The comment said:

Don't write about him.

I stared at the screen.

My heart started beating faster.

I clicked the profile.

Nothing.

No stories.

No followers.

No following.

The account had been created tonight.

I went back to my story.

I opened the draft.

My eyes widened.

The sentence I had deleted earlier was back.

He was already waiting for her.

Except this time, there was something underneath it.

A second sentence.

One I definitely hadn't written.

And he's been waiting for thirteen years.

I stopped breathing.

I stared at the screen.

Then another notification appeared.

Someone commented on your story.

I opened it.

The same anonymous account.

This time, the message was longer.

You don't remember me yet.

My hands went cold.

I dropped the phone onto my bed.

"No."

I told myself it was a prank.

Someone had somehow found my account.

Maybe an old friend.

Maybe someone who knew me.

Maybe—

My phone buzzed again.

I didn't want to look.

I looked anyway.

Another comment.

But you will.

Then, beneath it:

Tomorrow. 8:00 PM. Bellamy's.

I stared at the words.

Bellamy's.

The coffee shop I had just invented for Avery and Luca.

Except Bellamy's didn't exist.

At least...

I didn't think it did.

I grabbed my laptop.

Opened Google.

Typed:

Bellamy's coffee shop

My search results loaded.

My blood ran cold.

There it was.

A small coffee shop downtown.

Bellamy's Café.

The address appeared underneath.

I stared at the screen.

I had never heard of it.

Never visited it.

Never seen it.

And yet, according to the search results, Bellamy's had been there for almost twenty years.

My phone buzzed one last time.

I slowly looked down.

A new message.

Not from Wattpad.

From an unknown number.

Don't be late, Jasmine.

I stopped.

Because I had never told my story my real name.

And I had never told anyone about Bellamy's.

I looked back at my laptop.

The cursor was blinking.

Waiting.

And beneath the words After 13 Years, a new line appeared on the screen.

One I hadn't typed.

Chapter Two: Bellamy's

I stared at it.

Then whispered the only thing that came to mind.

"Who are you?"

The cursor blinked once.

Twice.

And then another sentence appeared.

You wrote me.

Chapter 2: Chapter Two - Bellamy’s

I didn't sleep.

Not really.

I closed my eyes, but every time I did, I saw the same three things.

The anonymous Wattpad account.

The message from the unknown number.

And the sentence that had appeared on my screen.

You wrote me.

By six in the morning, I had convinced myself there had to be an explanation.

There always was.

Someone had hacked my account.

Someone was messing with me.

Maybe I'd accidentally discovered an old story or character without realizing it.

Maybe Bellamy's was a real coffee shop I'd seen somewhere years ago and forgotten about.

There had to be a reasonable explanation.

There had to be.

I repeated that to myself while getting ready.

I repeated it while making coffee.

I repeated it while driving to work.

And I repeated it again when my best friend, Mia, took one look at my face and said,

"You look like you haven't slept."

"I didn't."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

I hesitated.

Because telling Mia that a fictional character might be stalking me sounded completely insane.

"I started writing."

Her expression immediately changed.

"You finally did it?"

I nodded.

She smiled.

"Jasmine, that's amazing."

I smiled back.

For a moment, everything felt normal.

Then my phone buzzed.

I glanced down.

Unknown Number.

My heart dropped.

I didn't open it.

Mia noticed.

"Who is that?"

"Nobody."

She stared at me.

"You've never been good at lying."

I turned my phone over.

"I'll tell you later."

She didn't push.

But I knew she would.

Mia always knew when something was wrong.

⸻

That evening, I sat in my car outside Bellamy's.

8:02 PM.

I had been staring at the building for two minutes.

The coffee shop looked exactly like it had in my imagination.

Dark brick.

Large windows.

Warm lights.

Pink flowers hanging in window boxes.

I had described it in my story before ever seeing it.

My stomach twisted.

I should have left.

Instead, I grabbed my purse and walked inside.

A small bell rang above the door.

The smell of coffee and vanilla filled the room.

People talked quietly around me.

Someone laughed near the counter.

A woman sat by the window reading.

Everything looked normal.

Almost disappointingly normal.

I approached the counter.

"Can I help you?"

I looked up.

The barista smiled.

"Um..."

I looked around.

"I'm meeting someone."

"What's their name?"

I swallowed.

"Luca."

The barista's smile disappeared.

Only for a second.

But I noticed.

"Right."

She glanced toward the back of the café.

"He's already here."

My heart stopped.

I turned.

There was a man sitting alone in the corner.

Dark hair.

Black jacket.

One hand wrapped around a coffee cup.

His face was turned toward the window.

I couldn't see him clearly.

But something about him felt familiar.

Too familiar.

I took one step forward.

Then another.

He slowly turned around.

And I forgot how to breathe.

Brown eyes.

Dark hair.

A calm expression.

A small scar above his eyebrow.

Exactly as I had described him.

Exactly.

The man stood.

"Jasmine."

My name sounded different coming from his mouth.

Like he'd said it before.

Like he'd been saying it for years.

I couldn't move.

"You know me?"

He looked almost amused.

"I know more about you than you think."

My heart pounded.

"Who are you?"

He glanced at the empty chair across from him.

"Sit down."

"No."

His eyebrows lifted.

"You're not going to sit?"

"I'm not sitting with a stranger who somehow knows my name."

He smiled.

"You already know my name."

"Luca isn't real."

His smile faded.

"That's what you believe."

I stared at him.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled something out.

A small black notebook.

He placed it on the table.

My stomach dropped.

I recognized it.

I had described it in my story.

Black leather.

Rose-gold lettering.

A tiny scratch along the bottom corner.

I had written those details less than twenty-four hours ago.

"This isn't possible."

He opened the notebook.

The first page was filled with handwriting.

My handwriting.

I stepped closer.

"No."

I knew those words.

I knew those letters.

I knew the tiny loop I made whenever I wrote the letter J.

It was mine.

Except the page wasn't new.

The ink had faded.

Yellowed slightly with age.

At the top of the page was a date.

August 13, 2013.

My heart stopped.

"That's impossible."

Luca looked at me.

"Why?"

"Because I didn't write this."

He turned the notebook toward me.

I read the first sentence.

Someday, Jasmine will finally tell our story.

My eyes filled with tears.

"Our?"

He didn't answer.

I looked up.

"Who are you?"

Luca leaned back.

"You really don't remember."

"Remember what?"

He studied my face for several seconds.

Then quietly said,

"We were supposed to meet thirteen years ago."

I shook my head.

"No."

"You were supposed to come here."

"I've never been here."

"You were."

"No, I wasn't."

"You were fifteen minutes late."

I stared at him.

"You waited for me?"

"For hours."

The café suddenly felt colder.

"Why?"

His eyes softened.

"Because you asked me to."

I shook my head.

"I don't remember asking you anything."

"You wouldn't."

"Why?"

He closed the notebook.

"Because you wrote yourself out of the story."

I didn't understand.

He stood.

"I think you should go home."

I stared at him.

"You brought me here."

"No."

He stepped closer.

"You did."

My phone buzzed.

I pulled it from my purse.

Another Wattpad notification.

My hands shook as I opened it.

A new chapter had been published.

Chapter Three — The Girl Who Forgot

I stared at the screen.

"I didn't publish this."

Luca looked at the phone.

For the first time since I'd walked into Bellamy's, he looked genuinely afraid.

"What?"

I turned the screen toward him.

His face changed.

"That's not possible."

"What does it say?"

He didn't answer.

"Luca."

He looked at me.

"Read it."

I swallowed.

The chapter contained only one sentence.

Jasmine didn't remember the first time she met Luca, because she was never supposed to remember him at all.

I looked up.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Luca didn't respond.

Instead, he reached for my wrist.

I pulled away.

"Don't touch me."

He stopped.

"I'm sorry."

For the first time, the confidence disappeared from his face.

He looked scared.

Not of me.

For me.

"You need to listen to me carefully."

I waited.

"Whatever happens tonight..."

He glanced toward the windows.

"...don't go home alone."

My stomach tightened.

"Why?"

He looked back at me.

"Because whoever is writing your story isn't trying to tell you how it ends."

He paused.

"They're trying to change it."

The lights in Bellamy's suddenly flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then went completely dark.

Someone screamed.

I heard a crash near the front door.

Then silence.

My phone lit up in the darkness.

One new message.

Unknown Number

I opened it.

There was a photograph attached.

I stared at it.

It was old.

A little girl stood outside Bellamy's.

She couldn't have been more than fourteen.

Long hair.

A pink hoodie.

A notebook held against her chest.

I recognized her immediately.

It was me.

My breathing stopped.

Underneath the photograph was a message.

You weren't supposed to remember this night.

Then another message appeared.

But he was.

I slowly looked toward Luca.

He was staring at me.

And I realized something.

He wasn't surprised by the photograph.

He looked heartbroken.

"You knew."

He said nothing.

"You knew who I was."

Still nothing.

"You knew me before tonight."

His jaw tightened.

"Yes."

"How?"

He looked at the photograph in my hand.

Then back at me.

"Because I was there."

My voice barely came out.

"Thirteen years ago?"

He nodded.

"And you weren't alone."

I stared at him.

"Who was I with?"

Luca's expression changed.

"Your sister."

My blood ran cold.

"I don't have a sister."

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then quietly said,

"That's what they wanted you to believe."

Chapter 3: Chapter Three — The Girl Who Forgot

That's what they wanted you to believe.

For several seconds, I couldn't speak.

The words didn't make sense.

They couldn't.

I stared at Luca, waiting for him to smile. To tell me this was some elaborate joke. To laugh and admit that someone had put him up to this.

He didn't.

The lights above us flickered back on.

The café looked different now.

The tables.

The chairs.

The people standing frozen around us.

Everything seemed slightly unreal.

I looked down at the photograph again.

The girl in the pink hoodie stared back at me.

Me.

Thirteen years younger.

Standing outside Bellamy's.

Holding the exact same notebook Luca had just placed on the table.

My hands began to shake.

"Who is my sister?"

Luca didn't answer.

"Luca."

He looked toward the café windows.

"Not here."

"Not here?" My voice rose. "You just told me I have a sister."

A few people nearby turned to look at us.

Luca lowered his voice.

"If you want answers, you need to come with me."

"No."

"Jasmine—"

"No."

I stepped backward.

"You have known me for thirteen years. You somehow have a notebook written in my handwriting. You know things about my life that you shouldn't know, and now you're telling me I have a sister I don't remember?"

He said nothing.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

His expression softened.

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

Then he held it toward me.

"Call your mother."

My stomach dropped.

"What?"

"Call her."

"Why?"

"Ask her about August 13, 2013."

I stared at him.

"I don't know what that date means."

"She does."

My fingers tightened around my phone.

I didn't want to call.

I didn't want to hear the answer.

But some part of me already knew there was one.

I pulled up my contacts.

Mom.

My thumb hovered over her name.

Then I pressed call.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

She answered.

"Jasmine?"

Her voice was sleepy.

"Mom?"

"Are you okay?"

I swallowed.

"Can I ask you something?"

A pause.

"Of course."

"What happened on August 13, 2013?"

Silence.

Not normal silence.

The kind that made every hair on my arms stand up.

"Mom?"

She breathed in sharply.

"Why are you asking me that?"

I looked at Luca.

He was watching me carefully.

"I just... saw the date somewhere."

"Where?"

"I can't explain."

Another pause.

Then my mother said something that made my heart stop.

"You weren't supposed to remember that date."

My eyes widened.

Luca closed his eyes.

Like he'd already known what she was going to say.

"Mom," I whispered. "What happened?"

"I don't know what you've been told."

"Tell me the truth."

"I am telling you the truth."

"No, you're not."

My voice cracked.

"I don't have a sister, right?"

Silence.

"Mom?"

She started crying.

Quietly.

But I heard it.

My entire body went cold.

"Mom."

"Jasmine..."

"Do I have a sister?"

She didn't answer.

I already had my answer.

"What's her name?"

My mother sobbed.

Then the call ended.

I stared at the screen.

Call ended.

I looked at Luca.

He didn't say anything.

"Her name."

He nodded toward the door.

"Not here."

I shoved my phone into my purse.

"Then where?"

"Somewhere safe."

I laughed bitterly.

"Safe?"

He looked at me.

"Yes."

I glanced around the café.

People were still staring.

The barista was standing behind the counter, pale and silent.

Then I noticed something.

A photograph hanging behind her.

A group photo.

The café staff.

I stepped closer.

And there she was.

A girl standing near the back.

Long dark hair.

Pink hoodie.

The same girl from the photograph.

My breath caught.

"Luca."

He turned.

I pointed.

"Who is she?"

His face went pale.

"Don't."

"Who is she?"

The barista quickly stepped in front of the photograph.

"Jasmine, you should leave."

I stared at her.

"You know me?"

She didn't answer.

"Everyone here knows something I don't."

The barista looked at Luca.

"It's starting again."

My stomach twisted.

"What is?"

She looked at me.

"The story."

The café went silent.

I looked at Luca.

"What does that mean?"

He walked toward me.

"We need to go."

This time, I didn't argue.

Because somewhere deep inside me, beneath thirteen years of memories that suddenly felt incomplete, I remembered something.

A voice.

A girl's voice.

Laughing.

Running through the rain.

And someone saying my name.

Jasmine.

I stopped walking.

Luca noticed.

"What?"

I looked at him.

"I remember something."

His expression changed.

"What?"

"A girl."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

I closed my eyes.

The memory came in fragments.

A pink hoodie.

A notebook.

A streetlight.

Bellamy's sign glowing in the rain.

And a hand holding mine.

Then a voice whispered:

"Promise me you'll write about us."

My eyes opened.

Luca was staring at me.

"You remember."

I shook my head.

"No."

"Yes, you do."

"I remember a girl."

His voice softened.

"That was your sister."

My heart pounded.

"What was her name?"

Luca looked away.

"Luca."

He didn't answer.

"What was her name?"

He finally looked back at me.

"Amelia."

The name hit me like a wave.

Amelia.

I whispered it again.

"Amelia."

Something inside my mind cracked open.

A memory flashed.

A little girl sitting beside me at a kitchen table.

Two notebooks between us.

She was drawing stars along the edges of a page.

She looked at me and smiled.

"You'll remember me, right?"

I was crying.

"I promise."

Another flash.

A car.

Rain against glass.

My mother's voice screaming.

A door opening.

A hand slipping out of mine.

Then darkness.

I gasped.

Luca caught my arm before I fell.

"Jasmine."

I pulled away.

"Amelia."

He nodded.

"What happened to her?"

His eyes filled with something I couldn't identify.

Grief.

Fear.

Regret.

"She disappeared."

My heart sank.

"When?"

"Thirteen years ago."

I stared at him.

"On August 13th?"

He nodded.

I looked down at the notebook.

The rose-gold letters on the cover suddenly seemed brighter.

I picked it up.

"Why does this exist?"

Luca looked at it.

"Because you wrote it."

"No."

"You did."

"I was fourteen."

"You were."

"I don't remember writing it."

"You weren't supposed to."

I opened the notebook.

Page after page was filled with handwriting.

My handwriting.

Some pages were crossed out.

Some contained drawings.

Some were filled with names.

Avery Rose.

Luca Bennett.

Amelia Rose.

I froze.

"Avery."

Luca looked at me.

"Who is Avery?"

He didn't answer.

I flipped the page.

There was a sentence written across the top.

Avery is Jasmine's replacement.

My blood ran cold.

"What does that mean?"

Luca reached for the notebook.

I pulled it away.

"No."

"Jasmine, give me the notebook."

"No."

I flipped another page.

This one contained a drawing.

Two girls.

One had long dark hair.

The other had shorter hair.

Between them was a small pink heart.

Underneath it, I had written:

If they take Amelia, I'll create Avery.

I stopped breathing.

Luca whispered my name.

I looked at him.

"I created Avery because Amelia disappeared."

"Yes."

"And then I wrote you into the story."

"Yes."

"And Bellamy's..."

"Was real."

I looked around the café.

The walls suddenly seemed to move closer.

"Why did I forget?"

Luca's voice was barely audible.

"Because you asked me to help you forget."

I stared at him.

"Why would I ever ask that?"

"Because you were scared."

"Of what?"

He hesitated.

Then he looked toward the window.

"Of the person who took her."

My heart pounded.

"Who?"

Before Luca could answer, my phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

Another message.

You're getting too close.

Another message appeared.

Stop remembering.

Then a final message.

Or Avery disappears next.

I stared at the screen.

My blood ran cold.

"Avery..."

Luca looked at me.

"What?"

I showed him the message.

His face changed instantly.

"Get in the car."

"Why?"

"Because they know you're here."

"Who?"

He grabbed the notebook.

"The person who has been writing your story."

I followed him outside.

But before I reached the door, I stopped.

Across the street stood a woman.

Long dark hair.

Pink hoodie.

She was staring directly at me.

My heart stopped.

She smiled.

Then mouthed four words.

You promised you'd remember.

I blinked.

She was gone.

I ran outside.

The street was empty.

No woman.

No pink hoodie.

Nothing.

Except a single notebook lying on the sidewalk.

I slowly walked toward it.

On the cover were two words written in rose-gold ink.

CHAPTER FOUR.

Chapter 4: Chapter Four — The Notebook

The notebook was still sitting on the sidewalk.

I stared at it.

I couldn't move.

Luca stepped beside me, his eyes fixed on the small black book.

"Don't touch it."

I looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because it wasn't there a second ago."

My stomach tightened.

"How do you know?"

"Because I was watching the street."

I looked down again.

The notebook was small and black, with worn edges and a faded leather cover.

Then I noticed the writing.

Two words.

JASMINE ROSE

My name.

I crouched down.

Luca grabbed my wrist.

"Jasmine."

I pulled away.

"I need to know what's inside."

"You don't."

"I need answers."

"So do I."

That stopped me.

I stared at him.

"You don't know what's inside?"

He shook his head.

"No."

For the first time since I'd met him, Luca looked genuinely confused.

I reached down.

The moment my fingers touched the notebook, pain shot through my hand.

I gasped.

Images flashed through my mind.

A little girl laughing.

A pink hoodie.

Two notebooks sitting on a kitchen table.

A girl's handwriting covering an entire page.

Then—

A door slamming.

Someone screaming.

Rain hitting glass.

My mother's voice.

"Jasmine, RUN!"

I pulled my hand away.

The notebook fell open.

The pages fluttered in the wind before stopping.

One sentence was written across the page.

Chapter Four begins when Jasmine finds the second notebook.

My breathing stopped.

Luca stared at the page.

"No."

"What?"

He crouched beside me.

"Look at the handwriting."

I looked closer.

It wasn't mine.

The letters were smaller.

Messier.

But somehow...

I knew them.

My heart sank.

"Amelia."

Luca's eyes widened.

"You remember her handwriting?"

I nodded slowly.

"I don't know how."

I touched the page.

"She used to write like this."

Luca sat back.

"Then she's alive."

The words hit me like a punch.

"No."

"Jasmine—"

"No."

I stood.

"She disappeared thirteen years ago."

"That's what we were told."

"By my mother."

"Yes."

"And you."

He looked away.

"Yes."

I stared at him.

"You knew she might be alive."

"I suspected."

"For thirteen years?"

"I didn't know where she was."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you weren't supposed to remember."

A bitter laugh escaped me.

"Everyone keeps saying that."

I looked down at the notebook.

"Who decided what I'm supposed to remember?"

Luca didn't answer.

"Who?"

Still nothing.

I stepped closer.

"Was it my mother?"

"No."

"You?"

"No."

"Then who?"

He finally looked at me.

"The person who wrote the first story."

My stomach dropped.

"The first story?"

Luca nodded.

"Before you created Avery. Before you wrote me. Before Bellamy's."

He paused.

"There was another story."

"Written by Amelia?"

"No."

"Then who?"

His expression changed.

"You."

I stared at him.

"That doesn't make sense."

"It will."

He picked up the notebook.

"We need somewhere private."

I followed him toward his car.

"Where are we going?"

"Your house."

I stopped.

"No."

He turned around.

"Why?"

"Because whoever is doing this knows where I am."

His expression darkened.

"Exactly."

I looked around the empty street.

"What if they follow us?"

"They already are."

My heart dropped.

"What?"

Luca looked across the street.

I followed his gaze.

A black SUV sat beneath a streetlight.

The windows were tinted.

The engine was running.

"How long has that been there?"

"Since we left the café."

My stomach twisted.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want you to panic."

"I'm already panicking."

"I know."

The SUV suddenly pulled away.

Luca grabbed my hand.

"Get in."

We ran.

I climbed into the passenger seat and locked the door.

Luca started the engine.

For several minutes, neither of us spoke.

I held the notebook tightly against my chest.

Finally, I broke the silence.

"What was I like thirteen years ago?"

Luca glanced at me.

"Different."

"How?"

"You trusted people."

I frowned.

"I don't trust people now?"

"Not easily."

"Maybe I learned."

A small smile appeared on his face.

"Maybe."

I looked out the window.

"What was Amelia like?"

His smile disappeared.

"She was brave."

"Was she older than me?"

"Two years."

"So she was sixteen."

"Yes."

"Why would she disappear?"

Luca's hands tightened around the steering wheel.

"Because she found something."

"What?"

"The story."

I looked at the notebook.

"What story?"

"The one you were never supposed to finish."

We stopped at a red light.

I opened the notebook.

Page after page was filled with names, dates, drawings, and locations.

Some I recognized.

Most I didn't.

Then I saw it.

A drawing of Bellamy's.

Underneath it were three names.

Jasmine.

Amelia.

Luca.

And beneath them:

August 13, 2013.

I looked at him.

"You were there."

He nodded.

"Yes."

"What happened?"

He didn't answer.

"Luca."

"I promised Amelia I wouldn't tell you."

"She's missing."

"I know."

"You kept a promise to someone who disappeared thirteen years ago?"

He looked at me.

"I kept it because I believed she'd come back."

I looked down at the notebook.

"Did she?"

He didn't answer.

That was answer enough.

We pulled into my driveway.

The house looked normal.

Too normal.

I stared at the front door.

Something was wrong.

"The door."

Luca looked at it.

It was slightly open.

I knew I'd locked it.

"I'm calling the police."

"No."

I looked at him.

"Why?"

"If someone wanted to hurt you, they wouldn't leave the door open."

"Then why is it open?"

His eyes remained fixed on the house.

"Because they want us to go inside."

I stared at him.

"That's insane."

"Probably."

He opened his door.

"Stay here."

"No."

"Jasmine."

"I'm done staying behind."

He looked at me for a moment.

Then nodded.

We stepped out of the car.

The front door creaked as we pushed it open.

Everything looked untouched.

My purse was where I'd left it.

My shoes were beside the door.

The coffee mug from that morning was still sitting in the sink.

Nothing appeared missing.

Then I saw my laptop.

It was open.

The screen was glowing.

My Wattpad account was displayed.

My story was open.

I slowly walked toward it.

"Don't touch it," Luca said.

I stopped.

The cursor moved across the screen.

Then words began appearing.

One letter at a time.

Jasmine came home with Luca.

My breathing stopped.

Another sentence appeared.

She shouldn't have.

I looked at Luca.

He had gone completely still.

"What does that mean?"

He didn't answer.

More words appeared.

Because now he remembers too.

I turned toward him.

"You remember?"

He said nothing.

"Luca."

His jaw tightened.

"What do you remember?"

The screen continued typing.

Ask Luca what happened to Amelia.

I looked at him.

"You know."

His eyes closed.

"Luca."

"I know."

"What happened to her?"

He opened his eyes.

And for the first time, I saw tears in them.

"I left her."

My heart dropped.

"What?"

"I left her at Bellamy's."

"When?"

"Thirteen years ago."

"Why?"

"She told me to."

I shook my head.

"Why would she tell you to leave her?"

"Because she knew they were coming."

"Who?"

Luca looked toward the laptop.

Another sentence appeared.

The people who erase memories.

I stared at the screen.

Then another sentence appeared.

And Jasmine was next.

The laptop suddenly shut off.

The house went completely dark.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

I looked down.

Ask Luca why he remembers everything...

Another message appeared.

...when you remember nothing.

I slowly looked up at him.

"Luca?"

He didn't move.

Then—

A floorboard creaked upstairs.

We both looked toward the staircase.

Another creak.

Someone was walking toward us.

Luca stepped in front of me.

"Stay behind me."

I grabbed his arm.

"Who is that?"

"I don't know."

A shadow appeared at the top of the stairs.

My heart pounded.

The figure stepped into the faint light coming through the window.

Long dark hair.

Pink hoodie.

My breath caught.

"No."

Luca went completely pale.

The girl slowly lifted her head.

She looked directly at me.

And smiled.

"Jasmine."

My knees nearly gave out.

I knew that face.

I had seen it in the photograph.

I had seen it in my memories.

I had seen it in the story.

"Amelia?"

The girl smiled wider.

Then she looked at Luca.

Her expression changed.

"You promised you wouldn't bring her back."

Luca's voice was barely a whisper.

"I didn't."

Amelia took another step down the stairs.

"Then who did?"

I looked at Luca.

Then back at Amelia.

And suddenly, I understood something.

She wasn't surprised to see me.

She had been waiting for me.

For thirteen years.

And whatever happened next...

I had a feeling it was already written.

Chapter 5: Chapter Five — The Girl Who Came Back

Amelia stood halfway down the stairs.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

I couldn't take my eyes off her.

She looked exactly like the girl in the photograph.

The same long dark hair.

The same pink hoodie.

The same face I had spent thirteen years forgetting.

Except she couldn't still be fourteen.

But somehow...

She looked like she hadn't aged a day.

My voice shook.

"How old are you?"

Amelia smiled sadly.

"That's a complicated question."

Luca stepped in front of me.

"Stay away from her."

Amelia's expression hardened.

"You're still doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Protecting her from the truth."

Luca didn't answer.

I stepped around him.

"Amelia."

She looked at me.

My heart hurt just saying her name.

"Is it really you?"

She nodded.

"Yes."

I swallowed.

"How?"

She slowly walked down another step.

"Because I never left."

My stomach dropped.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I was here."

"All this time?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

She looked toward the window.

"Somewhere between the story and reality."

I stared at her.

"That doesn't make sense."

"It didn't make sense to me either."

She reached the bottom of the stairs.

Luca's expression remained guarded.

"You shouldn't have come back," he said.

Amelia looked at him.

"You shouldn't have brought her here."

"I didn't."

"She wouldn't have found the notebook if you hadn't contacted her."

"I didn't contact her."

Amelia's eyes moved to me.

"Then who did?"

Nobody answered.

My phone buzzed.

I looked down.

Another Wattpad notification.

My stomach twisted.

Chapter Five — The Girl Who Came Back

I hadn't written it.

I hadn't published it.

But it was there.

I opened it.

The page was blank.

Except for one sentence.

Amelia is lying.

I looked up.

Amelia was watching me.

"You saw it."

I nodded.

She sighed.

"They know we're together."

"Who?"

"The person behind the account."

"Who are they?"

"I don't know."

Luca interrupted.

"Yes, you do."

Amelia glared at him.

"You always thought you knew everything."

"I know enough."

"You knew enough to leave me."

His face fell.

I looked between them.

"What happened that night?"

Neither answered.

"I'm tired of everyone keeping secrets from me."

Amelia looked at me.

"You really don't remember?"

"No."

"Not even the beginning?"

I shook my head.

She walked toward me.

Luca immediately stepped forward.

"Don't."

Amelia stopped.

"Let her choose."

I looked at Luca.

Then at Amelia.

"I want to remember."

Amelia nodded.

"Then you need to see something."

She turned toward the hallway.

I followed.

"Jasmine," Luca said.

I stopped.

He looked terrified.

"Don't go with her."

I stared at him.

"Why?"

"Because the last time you followed Amelia..."

He paused.

"You disappeared too."

My heart stopped.

I looked at Amelia.

"Is that true?"

She didn't answer.

That was enough.

I stepped backward.

"What happened to me?"

Amelia looked at Luca.

"Tell her."

He shook his head.

And I realized—

whatever happened thirteen years ago...

was worse than anything either of them had told me.

Chapter 6: Chapter Six — The Father Who Wasn’t Dead

The screen went black.

I stared at it, waiting for the words to come back.

They didn't.

The room was silent.

Too silent.

My heart was beating so hard I could hear it.

"Your father?" I whispered.

Amelia didn't answer.

I looked at Luca.

He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Someone needs to explain."

Nothing.

I stepped closer to them.

"My father has been dead for thirteen years."

Amelia's face tightened.

"No."

I shook my head.

"Yes."

"My mother told me he died."

"She lied."

The word hit me harder than I expected.

I backed away.

"No."

"Jasmine—"

"No."

I pointed toward the laptop.

"That message could have been from anyone."

Amelia shook her head.

"It wasn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because he used to call you sweetheart."

My stomach dropped.

I froze.

Nobody had called me that in years.

Not since I was a child.

I looked at Amelia.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I was there."

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

"That doesn't answer my question."

She looked down.

"You don't remember the night your father disappeared."

"I remember."

"Do you?"

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

I remembered my mother crying.

I remembered a funeral.

I remembered wearing a black dress.

I remembered people telling me that my father was gone.

But I couldn't remember seeing his body.

I couldn't remember the funeral home.

I couldn't remember the casket.

I couldn't remember saying goodbye.

My breathing changed.

"Was there a funeral?"

Amelia nodded.

"Yes."

"Did I see him?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because your mother wouldn't let you."

I stared at her.

"Why?"

Amelia looked at Luca.

He finally spoke.

"Because there wasn't a body."

My stomach turned.

"What?"

"There was never a body."

I sat down.

My legs couldn't hold me.

For thirteen years, I'd believed my father was dead.

And suddenly I wasn't sure he ever had been.

I covered my face with my hands.

"This can't be real."

Luca crouched in front of me.

"Jasmine."

"Don't."

"I know this is a lot."

"You don't know anything about what this feels like."

He looked at me.

"I know what it feels like to lose someone."

I looked into his eyes.

There was something there.

Something painful.

"You lost someone too."

He nodded.

"Amelia."

She looked away.

I stood.

"Then tell me what happened."

Amelia walked toward the kitchen.

"Come with me."

Luca followed.

I followed them.

Amelia stopped beside the counter.

She opened a drawer.

Inside was an old envelope.

She pulled it out.

My name was written across the front.

Jasmine.

My heart stopped.

"What is that?"

"A letter."

"From my father?"

She nodded.

I took it.

My hands shook as I opened the envelope.

Inside was one sheet of paper.

The handwriting was familiar.

I didn't know how I knew that.

But I did.

I unfolded it.

The first line made my heart stop.

My sweet Jasmine,

I couldn't read any further.

My vision blurred.

I had seen that handwriting before.

Not in a photograph.

Not in a memory.

Somewhere else.

I flipped through the notebook.

There it was.

The same handwriting appeared in the margins of several pages.

My father's handwriting.

I looked at Amelia.

"You said he wasn't supposed to be in the story."

"He wasn't."

"Then why is his handwriting in my notebook?"

"I don't know."

I looked at the letter again.

I forced myself to read.

If you're reading this, then something went wrong.

My heart pounded.

Your mother will tell you I'm gone.

I stopped.

Amelia closed her eyes.

I continued.

She'll tell you I left. She'll tell you I died. She'll tell you whatever she has to tell you to keep you away from Bellamy's.

My hands began shaking.

Don't believe her.

I looked up.

"Why would my mother lie?"

Amelia answered quietly.

"Because she was scared."

"Of my father?"

"No."

"Then who?"

Amelia didn't answer.

I looked back at the letter.

The next paragraph was shorter.

The story isn't fiction.

My breath caught.

You and Amelia found it first.

I looked at her.

"What did we find?"

"The door."

"What door?"

"The one underneath Bellamy's."

I stared at her.

"There's a door underneath the café?"

"There used to be."

"What was behind it?"

Amelia's eyes filled with tears.

"Everything."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"It will."

I looked at Luca.

"You knew about this?"

"Yes."

"And you never told me?"

"You didn't remember."

"That's not an excuse."

"No."

His voice was quiet.

"I know."

I looked back at the letter.

There was one final paragraph.

Jasmine, if you ever remember the café, do not go looking for the door.

I froze.

Then I read the final sentence.

It knows you're coming.

The letter slipped from my hands.

"What does that mean?"

Amelia looked terrified.

"It means your father knew what would happen."

"What?"

"He knew you'd come back."

"To Bellamy's?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you always do."

I stared at her.

"What?"

"You've been trying to return to Bellamy's for thirteen years."

"No."

"You just don't remember."

I shook my head.

"No."

Amelia walked closer.

"You've written about it before."

My heart stopped.

"How many times?"

She didn't answer.

"How many times have I written this story?"

Amelia looked at Luca.

He whispered,

"Three."

I stared at him.

"Three?"

"The first time was when you were fourteen."

"And the second?"

"When you were nineteen."

"And the third?"

He looked toward my laptop.

"Yesterday."

I couldn't breathe.

"That's impossible."

"I know."

I looked at the notebook.

Three stories.

Three versions of my life.

And I remembered none of them.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

I looked down.

A photograph appeared.

It was old.

My father stood outside Bellamy's.

He was younger.

Smiling.

Holding a notebook.

Beside him stood Amelia.

And me.

Except I wasn't fourteen.

I looked maybe seven.

My heart stopped.

There was something written across the bottom of the photograph.

The first time you forgot.

Another message appeared.

You were too young to understand.

Then another.

But Amelia remembered.

I looked at her.

"Is this real?"

She nodded.

"Yes."

"Why don't I remember?"

Her voice broke.

"Because I made you forget."

The room went silent.

I stared at her.

"You?"

She nodded.

"I thought I was protecting you."

"You erased my memories?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because your father told me to."

My heart pounded.

"My father?"

Amelia nodded.

"He knew they were coming."

"Who?"

Before she could answer, the lights flickered.

Luca immediately turned toward the windows.

"Someone's outside."

I looked.

A black SUV sat across the street.

The same one from earlier.

The headlights turned on.

Amelia grabbed my hand.

"We have to leave."

"Where?"

"Bellamy's."

I stared at her.

"You just told me never to go there."

"I know."

"Then why are we going?"

She looked at me.

"Because your father left something there."

"What?"

"The last chapter."

My stomach dropped.

"What last chapter?"

Amelia's eyes filled with tears.

"The one you never finished."

The SUV began moving.

Luca grabbed his keys.

"Go."

We ran toward the door.

Behind us, my laptop suddenly turned on again.

Words appeared across the screen.

Don't go to Bellamy's.

Then another line.

He'll be waiting.

I stopped.

Amelia grabbed my hand.

"Jasmine."

I looked back at the screen.

One final sentence appeared.

Your father didn't disappear thirteen years ago.

My heart stopped.

The next sentence appeared.

He disappeared yesterday.

I looked at Amelia.

"What does that mean?"

She whispered,

"It means he's been alive this entire time."

The front door slammed open.

Someone was standing outside.

A man.

Tall.

Dark jacket.

His face hidden in the shadows.

Amelia froze.

Luca stepped in front of us.

The man slowly lifted his head.

And smiled.

I didn't recognize him.

But somehow...

I knew him.

"Jasmine."

My heart stopped.

He said the same thing he'd written on the screen.

"It's been thirteen years, sweetheart."

I couldn't breathe.

Because I finally understood.

My father hadn't come back.

He had been waiting.

Chapter 7: Chapter Seven — The Man in the Doorway

The man stood in the doorway.

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

I couldn't breathe.

His face was partially hidden by the porch light, but there was something about him that made my entire body freeze.

Something familiar.

The way he stood.

The slight tilt of his head.

The small scar near his eyebrow.

And his voice.

That voice.

"It's been thirteen years, sweetheart."

My knees almost gave out.

"Dad?"

The man smiled.

Not warmly.

Not the way I remembered.

Like he had been waiting years to hear me say that word.

"Hello, Jasmine."

Luca stepped in front of me.

"Stay back."

My father looked at him.

For the first time, his smile disappeared.

"Luca."

Luca's jaw tightened.

"You shouldn't be here."

My father laughed quietly.

"Neither should you."

Amelia grabbed my arm.

"Jasmine, we need to go."

I pulled away.

"No."

She looked at me.

"No?"

"I've spent thirteen years believing my father was dead."

My voice shook.

"If he's alive, I'm getting answers."

My father stepped inside.

"You always were stubborn."

I stared at him.

"You're alive."

"Yes."

"Why did everyone tell me you were dead?"

He glanced at Amelia.

"Because they had to."

"Who?"

He looked at me.

"You aren't ready."

I laughed bitterly.

"I'm not ready?"

After everything that had happened, those words felt almost insulting.

"I found out I have a sister I don't remember. I found out I've written the same story three times. I found out the café I invented is real. And now my dead father is standing in my house."

I stepped closer.

"I think I'm past ready."

He studied me.

"You look just like her."

"Like who?"

"Your mother."

My stomach tightened.

"You know what happened to Amelia."

He looked at Amelia.

"Yes."

"You know why she disappeared."

"Yes."

"You know why I forgot."

"Yes."

"Then tell me."

He sighed.

"Not here."

"Why?"

"Because they're listening."

I looked around.

"Who?"

He pointed toward my laptop.

"The people behind the story."

I looked at the screen.

It was still displaying the last message.

He'll be waiting.

I turned back to my father.

"Who wrote that?"

He didn't answer.

"Dad."

He looked at me.

"Call me Daniel."

I froze.

"Daniel?"

He nodded.

"Your father died thirteen years ago."

I stared at him.

"What?"

He stepped closer.

"The man standing in front of you isn't the same man you remember."

A chill ran through me.

"What does that mean?"

Amelia whispered,

"Jasmine..."

Daniel looked at her.

"You told her?"

"I had to."

"You broke the rule."

"What rule?"

I looked between them.

Daniel's expression hardened.

"She wasn't supposed to know about me yet."

"Yet?"

I felt sick.

"How long have you been watching me?"

He didn't answer.

"How long?"

"Since you started writing again."

My stomach dropped.

"You've been watching my account?"

"Yes."

"You were the anonymous reader?"

"No."

"Then who?"

His eyes moved toward Luca.

"Ask him."

I turned.

Luca's face was unreadable.

"What does my father have to do with you?"

Daniel smiled.

"Everything."

Luca stepped forward.

"Don't."

Daniel looked at him.

"You still haven't told her?"

"Told me what?"

Luca didn't answer.

I looked at him.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Daniel spoke.

"Luca was there the night your father disappeared."

I stared at Luca.

"You said you were at Bellamy's with Amelia."

"I was."

"You never said my father was there."

"He was."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I promised him I wouldn't."

I looked at Daniel.

"You made him promise?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Daniel's eyes darkened.

"Because I knew what would happen if you remembered."

"What would happen?"

Daniel looked at Amelia.

"She would come back."

My heart stopped.

"Amelia?"

He nodded.

"She was never supposed to leave."

Amelia looked away.

"That's not what happened."

Daniel's voice became colder.

"You know exactly what happened."

I stepped between them.

"What happened?"

Neither answered.

I screamed.

"What happened?!"

The room went silent.

Daniel finally spoke.

"Your sister made a deal."

My heart pounded.

"What kind of deal?"

"To save you."

I looked at Amelia.

"Save me from what?"

Amelia's eyes filled with tears.

"From the story."

I shook my head.

"That doesn't make sense."

"It will."

Daniel walked toward the kitchen.

He picked up the old notebook.

"You've been trying to understand this like it's a normal story."

He opened it.

"It isn't."

He turned the notebook toward me.

A page had been added.

I hadn't seen it before.

At the top was a title.

THE ORIGINAL STORY

Underneath were four names.

Jasmine Rose

Amelia Rose

Luca Bennett

Daniel Rose

My heart stopped.

"Why is your name there?"

Daniel looked at me.

"Because I was the one who taught you how to write."

I stared at him.

"You taught me?"

"You were seven."

A memory flashed.

My father sitting beside me at a kitchen table.

A notebook in front of me.

His hand guiding mine.

"Every story needs an ending, Jazzy."

I gasped.

The memory disappeared.

Daniel saw it happen.

"You remember."

I grabbed my head.

"I saw..."

"What?"

"You."

He smiled.

"Good."

Luca stepped forward.

"That's enough."

Daniel ignored him.

"Tell her about the door."

Luca shook his head.

"No."

"Tell her."

"What door?" I asked.

Daniel looked at me.

"The door beneath Bellamy's."

My stomach dropped.

"You said there was a door."

"There is."

"What's behind it?"

Daniel's expression changed.

"Your first story."

I stared at him.

"My first story?"

"Yes."

"The one I wrote when I was fourteen?"

"No."

He paused.

"The one you wrote when you were seven."

My blood ran cold.

"I wrote a story when I was seven?"

Daniel nodded.

"You wrote about Bellamy's."

"Why?"

"Because you had already been there."

I couldn't speak.

Amelia stepped closer.

"You and I found it together."

Daniel looked at her.

"And you were the one who opened the door."

Amelia's face went pale.

"I didn't know what was behind it."

"You knew enough."

"I was sixteen."

"And Jasmine was fourteen."

I looked between them.

"What happened?"

Daniel closed the notebook.

"Your sister opened the door."

"And?"

"She saw the story."

"What story?"

"The story of your life."

My heart stopped.

"That's impossible."

Daniel looked at me.

"Is it?"

He opened the notebook to the final page.

There was one sentence.

Jasmine will return to Bellamy's when she is ready to remember.

Underneath it was a date.

August 13, 2026.

My breathing stopped.

"You knew I would come back today."

"Yes."

"How?"

Daniel looked toward the window.

"Because you wrote it."

I stared at him.

"I didn't write that."

He smiled.

"You did."

The lights suddenly flickered.

Luca looked toward the door.

"Someone's coming."

Daniel closed the notebook.

"We're out of time."

I looked at him.

"Who?"

He didn't answer.

Then I heard it.

A car pulling into the driveway.

Another car.

Then another.

Headlights flooded the windows.

Amelia grabbed my hand.

"They found us."

"Who?"

She looked at me.

"The people who have been rewriting your story."

My heart pounded.

"How many?"

Luca looked through the window.

"Too many."

Daniel walked toward the back door.

"There's another way out."

I followed him.

"Where are we going?"

He looked over his shoulder.

"To Bellamy's."

I stopped.

"Why?"

He held up the notebook.

"Because if you want the truth..."

He opened the back door.

"...you have to finish what you started thirteen years ago."

I looked at Amelia.

Then Luca.

Then my father.

And for the first time, I realized something terrifying.

They weren't taking me to Bellamy's because they wanted me to remember.

They were taking me there because someone was waiting for me to finish the story.

And whatever happened next...

would decide whether I was the author—

or the character.

Chapter 8: Chapter Eight — The Boy in the Story

The first thing I noticed was Luca's hand.

He was holding mine.

The second thing I noticed was that I wasn't pulling away.

Not because I trusted him.

Not completely.

But because everything around me felt like it was falling apart, and somehow his hand was the only thing keeping me grounded.

"Move," Daniel whispered.

We hurried through the back door.

Amelia followed.

Luca stayed behind us, watching the house.

I looked over my shoulder.

Three black SUVs were parked outside.

Doors opened.

Men stepped out.

My heart raced.

"Who are they?"

Daniel didn't answer.

"Dad."

"Not here."

We ran toward the car.

Luca opened the passenger door.

"Jasmine, get in."

I climbed inside.

Amelia got in beside me.

Daniel took the driver's seat.

Luca slid into the back.

The moment the doors closed, Daniel sped away.

I looked through the rear window.

The men were running toward the house.

One of them stopped.

He looked directly at me.

Then he smiled.

I turned around.

"How did they know where we were?"

Daniel gripped the steering wheel.

"Because someone told them."

"Who?"

Silence.

I looked at Amelia.

She shook her head.

"Don't look at me."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

I frowned.

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

Amelia looked away.

"Because I used to know you better than anyone."

The words hurt more than they should have.

"Used to?"

She looked at me.

"I don't know you anymore."

I didn't know what to say.

Luca leaned forward from the back seat.

"We need to get to Bellamy's before they do."

I turned.

"Why?"

"Because that's where the answers are."

Daniel glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"And that's exactly what they want."

Luca's jaw tightened.

"They won't get there first."

I looked between them.

"What happened to the two of you?"

Neither answered.

I turned toward Luca.

"You said you'd tell me."

"I will."

"When?"

"When we're safe."

I laughed.

"We're being chased by people who apparently know my entire life, and you're worried about finding somewhere safe?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to remember everything at once."

I stared at him.

"Why?"

His eyes met mine in the mirror.

"Because some memories hurt more than others."

I looked away.

A strange feeling moved through me.

Familiar.

Like I'd heard those words before.

From him.

A long time ago.

I closed my eyes.

And suddenly—

I was fourteen again.

Rain.

Bellamy's.

Luca standing beneath the awning.

His hair was soaked.

He was smiling.

"You're late."

I laughed.

"I'm sorry."

"You said seven."

"I know."

"You're always late."

"You waited."

"Of course I waited."

The memory disappeared.

I opened my eyes.

Luca was staring at me.

"You remembered."

I swallowed.

"You said that before."

He smiled faintly.

"I did."

"You told me I was always late."

"You were."

I almost smiled.

Then another memory came.

Luca handing me a cup of hot chocolate.

"Extra marshmallows."

"You remembered."

"I remember everything about you."

The memory disappeared.

I stared at him.

"Why?"

He looked down.

"Because I loved you."

Silence filled the car.

My heart stopped.

Amelia looked at me.

Daniel's eyes remained on the road.

I couldn't speak.

Luca continued.

"Back then."

I swallowed.

"You loved me?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"You forgot."

"That's not an answer."

"No."

He looked out the window.

"It's the truth."

My chest tightened.

"Did I love you?"

He didn't answer.

I looked at Amelia.

She gave me a sad smile.

"You did."

I looked back at Luca.

"Then why don't I remember?"

"Because you asked me to let you forget."

My heart dropped.

"Why would I ever ask that?"

"Because you thought it would save me."

I shook my head.

"I don't understand."

Luca leaned forward.

"You were supposed to choose."

"Choose what?"

"Between remembering me..."

He paused.

"...and remembering Amelia."

My stomach twisted.

"What kind of choice is that?"

"The kind someone forced you to make."

I stared at him.

"Who?"

Luca looked toward Daniel.

"Your father."

Daniel didn't deny it.

I felt anger rising.

"Dad?"

He kept driving.

"Your father wasn't trying to hurt you."

"Then what was he doing?"

"Protecting you."

"Everyone keeps saying that."

I looked at Luca.

"What happened between us?"

He hesitated.

Then he reached into his jacket.

He pulled out a folded photograph.

He handed it to me.

I opened it.

It was me and Luca.

We were sitting outside Bellamy's.

I was smiling.

He was looking at me.

Not at the camera.

At me.

On the back was handwriting.

Some stories are written before they're lived.

I turned the photograph over again.

There was another picture underneath.

This one was different.

Luca was standing beside a little girl.

Amelia.

But behind them was my father.

Daniel.

And next to him—

a woman I didn't recognize.

I stared at her.

"Who is that?"

Daniel's hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Luca went silent.

Amelia whispered,

"Don't."

"Who is she?"

Daniel finally spoke.

"Her name was Evelyn."

"Who was Evelyn?"

Nobody answered.

I looked at Luca.

"Who was she?"

He took a breath.

"Your father's partner."

"Partner?"

"In the story."

I stared at him.

"What does that mean?"

Luca looked at me.

"Evelyn helped your father create Bellamy's."

I felt cold.

"Create it?"

"Yes."

"But Bellamy's is real."

"It is now."

"What was it before?"

Luca's expression darkened.

"A doorway."

"To where?"

He looked at me.

"Another version of reality."

I laughed nervously.

"That sounds insane."

"I know."

"Then why should I believe you?"

"Because you've already seen it."

I stared at him.

"What?"

"The door."

I froze.

"I've never seen a door."

"You have."

"When?"

He looked at Amelia.

She nodded.

"You opened it."

My stomach dropped.

"I did?"

"When you were fourteen."

I looked down at my hands.

Another memory flashed.

A hallway.

Dark.

A wooden door.

Rose-gold letters carved into the surface.

WRITE WHAT YOU WISH TO REMEMBER.

My breathing stopped.

I remembered touching the handle.

Amelia screaming my name.

Luca grabbing my arm.

Then—

a bright white light.

I gasped.

"Luca."

He leaned forward.

"What?"

"I remember the door."

His face changed.

"What did you see?"

I closed my eyes.

"A sentence."

"What sentence?"

I whispered it.

"Write what you wish to remember."

Luca went pale

Chapter 9: Chapter Nine — The Story Beneath the Story

I couldn't move.

I stared at the screen.

Luca was never supposed to fall in love with Jasmine.

The words blurred in front of me.

"No."

Luca looked at me.

"Jasmine."

I pushed the laptop away.

"No."

Daniel glanced at me.

"What does it say?"

I looked at him.

"You know."

His expression didn't change.

"You know what?"

"The story."

Amelia closed her eyes.

"It's starting."

"What is?"

She looked at me.

"The part we couldn't change."

My heart pounded.

I picked up the laptop again.

More words had appeared.

Luca was created to protect Jasmine.

Then:

He was never supposed to remember her.

I looked at Luca.

"You remember me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

He looked away.

I stood.

"You've been lying to me since I met you."

"Jasmine—"

"You knew me thirteen years ago."

"Yes."

"You loved me."

"Yes."

"You knew Amelia."

"Yes."

"And you knew my father."

He hesitated.

"Yes."

I laughed bitterly.

"Is there anything you don't know?"

Luca stepped closer.

"There are things I don't remember either."

"What?"

"The beginning."

"What beginning?"

"The first time I met you."

I stared at him.

"You just told me you met me thirteen years ago."

"I did."

"Then why don't you remember?"

He looked toward Daniel.

"Because someone erased it."

My heart sank.

"Who?"

Daniel spoke.

"Evelyn."

I turned.

"Who is she?"

Daniel looked at the photograph.

"Someone who believed she could control the story."

"What happened to her?"

"She disappeared."

"When?"

"Thirteen years ago."

I stared at him.

"Of course she did."

Amelia looked at me.

"You don't understand."

"Then explain it."

She took a breath.

"Evelyn wasn't just your father's partner."

"What was she?"

"An author."

The room went silent.

I stared at her.

"An author?"

"Yes."

"She wrote?"

"She created."

"What did she create?"

Amelia looked at Luca.

"Him."

I turned toward Luca.

He didn't deny it.

"You created Luca?"

Amelia shook her head.

"Evelyn did."

I looked at Luca.

"Then what are you?"

He swallowed.

"Someone who was supposed to be fictional."

My stomach twisted.

"But you're real."

"Yes."

"How?"

He looked at the notebook.

"Because you changed the story."

I stared at him.

"I changed you?"

"You gave me a life."

"Why?"

"Because you couldn't accept losing me."

My eyes filled with tears.

"What happened to you?"

"I died."

The words barely registered.

"What?"

Luca looked at me.

"In the original story, I died."

I shook my head.

"No."

"You wrote another ending."

"For you."

"Yes."

"Why don't I remember?"

"Because the ending came with a price."

"What price?"

He looked toward the notebook.

"Amelia."

My heart stopped.

"What does Amelia have to do with it?"

Luca didn't answer.

Amelia stepped forward.

"I traded my memories for his life."

I stared at her.

"You what?"

"I made a deal."

"With Evelyn?"

She shook her head.

"With the story."

My chest tightened.

"You gave up your memories?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you couldn't survive losing both of us."

I shook my head.

"This is insane."

"No."

Amelia's voice broke.

"It's what happened."

I looked at Luca.

"And what did I do?"

"You wrote."

"What?"

"You wrote a new ending."

I stared at the notebook.

"Where?"

He pointed.

"The last page."

My hands shook as I opened it.

The page was blank.

Then letters began appearing.

One at a time.

Jasmine chooses Luca.

I stopped breathing.

"No."

Another sentence appeared.

Amelia disappears.

"No."

I slammed the notebook shut.

"NO."

The lights flickered.

Daniel grabbed my arm.

"Don't fight it."

I pulled away.

"Fight what?"

"The story."

I stared at him.

"You're telling me I have no choice?"

"You always have a choice."

"Then why is it writing for me?"

Daniel looked at me.

"Because you're afraid."

I shook my head.

"I'm not afraid."

He smiled sadly.

"You are."

The notebook opened by itself.

The pages flipped.

One.

Two.

Three.

Until it stopped.

A photograph fell onto the floor.

I picked it up.

It was me.

Amelia.

Luca.

And Evelyn.

Standing outside Bellamy's.

I stared at the picture.

There was something written on the back.

The first author.

My heart pounded.

I looked at Daniel.

"Who is the first author?"

He didn't answer.

I looked at Amelia.

She was crying.

"Luca?"

He looked at me.

Then whispered:

"You."

I stopped breathing.

"I was the first author."

He nodded.

"You wrote the original story."

I stared at the photograph.

"Then why don't I remember?"

Luca stepped closer.

"Because you didn't just write the story."

He paused.

"You wrote yourself into it."

The lights went out.

And somewhere in the darkness, a woman's voice whispered:

"Welcome back, Jasmine."

Chapter 10: Chapter Ten — The Girl Before Jasmine

I was never the author.

I read the sentence again.

And again.

My hands went cold.

The room seemed to shrink around me.

"No."

Evelyn stood across from me, watching my face.

"You knew this was coming."

"No."

"You did."

"I didn't."

Her expression softened.

"You just don't remember."

I looked at Luca.

"Tell me she's lying."

He didn't answer.

"Luca."

His eyes dropped.

"She's not lying."

My heart sank.

I turned toward Amelia.

"Did you know?"

She nodded slowly.

"Yes."

The word broke something inside me.

"You all knew."

Nobody spoke.

"You all knew that my entire life might not even be mine."

Amelia stepped toward me.

"Jasmine—"

"Don't."

She stopped.

I pointed toward the pages covering the wall.

"What is this?"

"The original draft."

"Written by who?"

She hesitated.

"Your father."

I stared at her.

"My father wrote me?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what does that mean?"

Luca stepped forward.

"Daniel discovered Bellamy's when he was young. He learned that the stories written there could cross into reality."

I looked at Evelyn.

"And she?"

"She was the first person who became trapped inside one."

Evelyn's expression darkened.

"I wasn't trapped."

Luca looked at her.

"You were."

"I chose it."

"Why?"

"To save Jasmine."

I froze.

"Save me from what?"

Evelyn looked at the pages.

"From becoming the ending."

I didn't understand.

She walked toward the wall.

"There were supposed to be four of us."

She pointed to a page.

Daniel. Evelyn. Amelia. Jasmine.

"Your father wanted to create a perfect story."

"A perfect story?"

"One where nobody died. Nobody left. Nobody forgot."

She smiled sadly.

"But stories don't work that way."

I looked at the page.

"What happened?"

"Your father tried to rewrite reality."

"And?"

"He succeeded."

My stomach dropped.

"But every rewrite came with a price."

"What price?"

Evelyn looked directly at me.

"You."

Silence.

I couldn't breathe.

"Me?"

"You were the anchor."

"What does that mean?"

"It means every time the story changed, you changed with it."

I shook my head.

"No."

"You were seven when it started."

A memory flashed.

My father's voice.

Every story needs an ending, Jazzy.

I closed my eyes.

Another memory.

A notebook.

A little girl sitting at a kitchen table.

Me.

Writing.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who wanted everyone she loved to stay.

I opened my eyes.

"I wrote that."

Evelyn nodded.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you were afraid."

"Of what?"

"Losing everyone."

My throat tightened.

I remembered.

My father leaving.

My mother crying.

Amelia holding my hand.

Luca standing outside Bellamy's.

And then the door.

The story.

The choice.

I suddenly remembered another sentence.

One I had forgotten completely.

If I write it, it can become real.

I whispered,

"I made a wish."

Amelia began crying.

"Yes."

"What did I wish for?"

Nobody answered.

I looked at Luca.

"What did I wish for?"

He swallowed.

"You wished that nobody could ever leave you."

My heart broke.

"And that's what caused all of this?"

Luca shook his head.

"No."

"Then what did?"

"You added one more sentence."

I stared at him.

"What sentence?"

He looked at the original draft.

"It wasn't supposed to happen."

"What wasn't?"

"Your sister disappearing."

I turned toward Amelia.

"You disappeared because of me?"

"No."

She wiped her tears.

"I disappeared because I changed the ending."

"What ending?"

"The one where you died."

My blood ran cold.

"I died?"

Luca closed his eyes.

"Once."

I couldn't breathe.

"When?"

"Thirteen years ago."

I stared at him.

"You're telling me I died?"

"Yes."

"And I'm..."

He struggled to speak.

"Not exactly the same Jasmine."

The room went silent.

I looked at my hands.

My reflection in the window.

My face.

My body.

Everything looked normal.

"How can I be here?"

Evelyn answered.

"Because someone brought you back."

"Who?"

She looked at Amelia.

Amelia shook her head.

"No."

I stared at her.

"You did?"

"I had to."

"Why?"

"Because I couldn't let you stay dead."

My chest tightened.

"What did you do?"

"I opened the door."

The memories came rushing back.

The white light.

The screaming.

Luca holding me.

Amelia crying.

My father shouting.

And then—

nothing.

I stumbled backward.

"You brought me back."

Amelia nodded.

"But the story needed something in exchange."

"What?"

Her voice broke.

"My memories."

I stared at her.

"You gave up my memories."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because if you remembered everything..."

She looked toward the original draft.

"...the story would start again."

My phone buzzed.

Everyone froze.

I slowly looked down.

A new notification.

Wattpad

I opened it.

There was a new chapter.

But this time, it wasn't titled Chapter Eleven.

It was titled:

THE ORIGINAL ENDING

My heart pounded.

I scrolled.

The first paragraph appeared.

Jasmine remembered everything.

I stopped.

The next sentence appeared while I was looking at it.

She remembered who she was.

Another.

She remembered who she loved.

I looked at Luca.

His face had gone pale.

Another sentence appeared.

And she remembered who killed her.

I froze.

"What?"

The screen continued.

It wasn't Amelia.

I looked at her.

It wasn't Luca.

I looked at him.

Then the final sentence appeared.

It was Jasmine.

My blood ran cold.

"No."

The screen went black.

Evelyn stepped closer.

"Now you understand."

I shook my head.

"No. I would never—"

"You did."

"Why?"

"Because you were trying to save everyone."

I looked at the original draft.

A new line appeared across the page.

THE AUTHOR HAS RETURNED.

The lights flickered.

The walls began shaking.

Pages flew from the tables.

The hidden door slammed shut.

Luca grabbed my hand.

"Jasmine, we have to go."

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

Evelyn shook her head.

"It's too late."

Amelia looked at her.

"What do you mean?"

Evelyn pointed toward me.

"The story has recognized her."

My phone buzzed again.

One final notification appeared.

Chapter Eleven — The Girl Who Killed Herself

I stared at the title.

Then slowly looked at Luca.

"What happened to me thirteen years ago?"

He looked like he was about to cry.

"You don't want to know."

I squeezed his hand.

"I need to."

He looked into my eyes.

Then whispered:

"You killed yourself to save me."

My heart stopped.

And somewhere beneath Bellamy's...

a woman began screaming my name.

Chapter 11: Chapter Eleven — The Girl Who Killed Herself

"You killed yourself to save me."

Luca's words echoed through my head.

I stared at him.

"No."

He didn't look away.

"I wouldn't do that."

"You did."

"I wouldn't."

"You did, Jasmine."

My hands began shaking.

"Tell me what happened."

Luca swallowed.

"Thirteen years ago, your father discovered what the story could do. He tried to control it. He thought he could rewrite reality."

"And he couldn't?"

"He could."

I frowned.

"Then what's the problem?"

"The story needed someone to pay the price."

My stomach tightened.

"Who?"

"You."

I looked at Amelia.

She was crying.

"You knew?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you made me promise."

"I made you promise?"

She nodded.

"You knew you were going to die."

I stepped backward.

"No."

"You knew."

"What did I say?"

Amelia closed her eyes.

"You told me that if the story ever asked for your life..."

She looked at me.

"...I had to let you go."

My heart broke.

"I wouldn't say that."

"You did."

Luca stepped closer.

"You were trying to save everyone."

"Who?"

"Me."

I stared at him.

"Why me?"

"Because the story chose me."

I didn't understand.

"What does that mean?"

Luca looked toward the original draft.

"My name was supposed to disappear."

I froze.

"What?"

"The story had written me out."

He pointed toward the page.

I walked closer.

There it was.

A paragraph scratched out so violently that the paper had nearly torn.

Luca Bennett will die before Jasmine Rose turns fifteen.

I covered my mouth.

"That was supposed to happen?"

"Yes."

"And I changed it?"

"You tried."

"What happened?"

Luca looked at me.

"You wrote yourself into my place."

My eyes filled with tears.

"No."

"You couldn't change the story completely."

"So I..."

"You traded places with me."

I looked at Amelia.

"That's why I died."

She nodded.

"You died so Luca could live."

I turned toward him.

"And you remembered?"

"Everything."

"You watched me die?"

His eyes filled with tears.

"I held you."

I couldn't breathe.

"You were holding me?"

"Yes."

"What did I say?"

He looked away.

"You told me not to let them rewrite you."

My heart shattered.

"And then?"

"You stopped breathing."

Silence.

I wiped my tears.

"What happened after?"

Amelia answered.

"I opened the door."

"The door beneath Bellamy's?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To bring you back."

"And it worked."

"Not completely."

I looked at her.

"What does that mean?"

"You came back..."

She hesitated.

"...but the story took your memories instead."

I looked at my hands.

"So I've been living for thirteen years without knowing who I really am."

"Yes."

"And everyone just let me?"

"No."

Luca stepped forward.

"We tried to protect you."

"Protect me?"

I laughed through my tears.

"You all lied to me."

"We were afraid."

"Of what?"

"That you'd remember."

"Why?"

"Because the story doesn't like being rewritten."

The café suddenly shook.

The lights flickered.

The pages on the wall began turning by themselves.

One after another.

Fast.

Too fast.

Then they stopped.

A single page remained open.

I walked toward it.

There was a photograph attached.

It was from thirteen years ago.

Me.

Luca.

Amelia.

We were standing in front of the door.

But this time, I noticed something I hadn't seen before.

My father was behind us.

And he wasn't alone.

A man stood beside him.

I stared at the photograph.

"Who is that?"

Luca went completely still.

Amelia whispered,

"Oh no."

I looked at her.

"What?"

She pointed at the man.

"That's the author."

My heart stopped.

"The author?"

"The person who wrote the original story."

"But you said my father wrote it."

"He thought he did."

I stared at the man.

His face was scratched out.

Again.

Like every other photograph.

"Who is he?"

Nobody answered.

Then my phone buzzed.

I looked down.

A new message.

Unknown Number

You finally remember the sacrifice.

Another message appeared.

But you still don't remember who asked you to make it.

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

A third message appeared.

Ask Luca.

I slowly looked up.

Luca's face had gone pale.

"Luca?"

He didn't answer.

"Did you ask me to die?"

His eyes filled with tears.

"No."

"Then why are they telling me to ask you?"

"I don't know."

The phone buzzed again.

A photograph appeared.

I opened it.

My heart stopped.

It was Luca and me.

But we weren't fourteen.

We looked older.

Maybe eighteen.

We were sitting inside Bellamy's.

And I was wearing the same necklace I had on right now.

I touched my neck.

The necklace suddenly felt cold.

I looked at Luca.

"This picture was taken after I died."

He nodded slowly.

"Yes."

"How?"

"I don't know."

I turned the photograph over.

There was writing on the back.

The second Jasmine.

My blood ran cold.

"What is the second Jasmine?"

Luca stepped toward me.

"Don't read the rest."

I flipped it over.

There was another sentence.

The first one died.

And underneath:

The second one forgot.

I looked at Amelia.

"How many Jasmines are there?"

She couldn't answer.

"How many?"

Her voice barely came out.

"Three."

The room went completely silent.

I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"Three?"

She nodded.

"The first Jasmine died thirteen years ago."

I looked at myself.

"The second one is me?"

"Yes."

"Then who's the third?"

Amelia looked toward the doorway.

My blood ran cold.

A shadow moved behind the glass.

Someone was standing outside.

A woman.

Long dark hair.

Pink hoodie.

My face.

I stopped breathing.

The woman raised her hand.

And tapped on the glass.

Three times.

Knock.

Luca grabbed my hand.

"Don't open the door."

I couldn't move.

The woman outside smiled.

Then she mouthed four words.

You stole my life.

The lights went out.

And in the darkness, someone whispered directly behind me:

"Welcome back, Jasmine."

Chapter 12: Chapter Twelve — The Third Jasmine

The lights went out.

For three seconds, there was nothing.

No sound.

No movement.

Just darkness.

Then I heard her breathing.

Someone was standing behind me.

I slowly turned.

The woman in the pink hoodie was still outside Bellamy's.

Still smiling.

Still looking directly at me.

But the voice behind me whispered again.

"Don't look at her."

I froze.

Luca.

His hand found mine in the darkness.

"Jasmine, whatever happens, don't open that door."

I swallowed.

"What is she?"

He didn't answer.

"Luca."

"She's you."

My heart stopped.

"What?"

"The third Jasmine."

A light flickered above us.

The woman outside was gone.

I looked toward the window.

Empty.

"Where did she go?"

Luca pulled me closer.

"She wasn't outside."

I looked at him.

"What?"

"She was never outside."

A cold chill ran through me.

"What does that mean?"

"She was showing you what the story wanted you to see."

I looked toward Amelia.

She was staring at the floor.

"You knew."

She nodded.

"I knew there were three."

"But you didn't know where the third one was."

"No."

"Then where is she?"

Amelia slowly looked up.

Her eyes filled with fear.

"She's here."

I felt my stomach drop.

"Where?"

Amelia pointed toward the hallway.

I turned.

Nothing.

Then the old photographs began falling from the walls.

One.

Two.

Three.

Until the hallway was covered in pictures.

I walked toward them.

Every photograph showed a different version of me.

Seven years old.

Fourteen.

Nineteen.

Twenty-seven.

Different hairstyles.

Different clothes.

Different lives.

But every single one had the same eyes.

Mine.

I picked up one photograph.

It showed me sitting beside Luca.

We looked older.

Happy.

In love.

On the back was a date.

August 13, 2020.

I looked at Luca.

"What happened in 2020?"

He stared at the photograph.

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

"I swear."

I picked up another.

August 13, 2023.

Another version of me.

Another life.

Another Luca.

Then another.

August 13, 2026.

The date was today.

But the photograph showed something impossible.

Me standing in Bellamy's.

Holding the original draft.

Beside me was the third Jasmine.

And behind us—

Evelyn.

I looked at Evelyn.

"That hasn't happened yet."

She nodded.

"No."

"Then why does the photograph exist?"

"Because the story doesn't always follow time."

I stared at her.

"Then what does it follow?"

"Choices."

My phone buzzed.

I looked down.

Another Wattpad notification.

A new chapter.

THE THIRD JASMINE

I opened it.

There was one sentence.

She wasn't created to replace Jasmine.

Another appeared.

She was created to remember for her.

My heart pounded.

I looked at Evelyn.

"Who created her?"

Evelyn didn't answer.

I looked at Amelia.

Nothing.

Then Luca whispered,

"Your father."

I turned toward him.

"Why?"

"Because he knew you'd eventually forget."

"So he created another version of me to remember?"

"Yes."

"Remember what?"

Luca looked at the original draft.

"Everything."

The café suddenly became freezing.

A whisper moved through the room.

Not from the doorway.

Not from the hallway.

From the walls.

"Jasmine..."

I stepped backward.

"Did you hear that?"

Amelia nodded.

The voice came again.

"Jasmine..."

Then the original draft slammed shut.

The notebook flew across the room.

Luca caught it.

He opened it.

The pages were blank.

Every single one.

"What happened?"

Luca flipped through them.

"It's gone."

"What?"

"The story."

I stared at him.

"What do you mean it's gone?"

"The original draft was here."

He turned the notebook over.

Nothing.

No writing.

No names.

No dates.

Nothing.

Then ink slowly appeared across the first page.

ONE STORY. THREE JASMINES. ONE SURVIVOR.

My heart dropped.

"What does that mean?"

Evelyn stepped forward.

"It means the story has finally reached its final choice."

"What choice?"

She looked at me.

"You."

I shook my head.

"No."

"You have to choose which Jasmine gets to live."

Silence.

I stared at her.

"There's another Jasmine?"

She nodded.

"The first."

"The one who died?"

"Yes."

"How can she still exist?"

"Because you never let her go."

I didn't understand.

Evelyn continued.

"Every time you wrote about Jasmine, you brought a piece of her back."

I felt sick.

"So she's inside the story?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

Evelyn pointed toward the hidden door.

"Behind there."

The door slowly opened.

Darkness waited on the other side.

Then I heard footsteps.

Slow.

Quiet.

Coming toward us.

My heart pounded.

Luca stepped in front of me.

The footsteps stopped.

A girl stepped into the light.

Long dark hair.

Pink hoodie.

A notebook pressed against her chest.

She looked exactly like me.

But younger.

Fourteen.

My age when everything supposedly happened.

She stared at me.

Tears filled her eyes.

"You stole my life."

I couldn't speak.

She looked at Luca.

Then Amelia.

"You all did."

Luca whispered,

"Jasmine..."

The girl shook her head.

"I'm not her."

I froze.

"What?"

She looked at me.

"You're Jasmine."

She pointed to herself.

"I'm the one you left behind."

My chest tightened.

"What should I call you?"

She looked down at the notebook.

Then whispered:

"Rose."

I stared at her.

"Rose?"

She nodded.

"Before they made me Jasmine."

A strange feeling moved through me.

Like I'd heard the name before.

Then I remembered.

A little girl sitting at a kitchen table.

My father beside her.

He smiled.

"What should we name our character?"

The little girl thought for a moment.

"Rose."

My father smiled.

"Why Rose?"

"Because roses have thorns."

The memory disappeared.

I looked at the girl.

"Rose..."

She smiled sadly.

"You remember."

I nodded.

"What happened to you?"

She looked at Luca.

"He knows."

I turned.

"Luca?"

He looked devastated.

Chapter 13: Chapter Thirteen — The Choice Beneath Bellamy’s

"You promised you'd never tell her."

"Tell me what?"

Rose stepped closer.

"He didn't save you."

My heart stopped.

"He chose me."

Luca closed his eyes.

"Rose..."

"He chose the wrong Jasmine."

I looked at Luca.

"Is that true?"

He couldn't answer.

"Luca."

He finally looked at me.

"Yes."

My heart shattered.

"What does that mean?"

He stepped closer.

"The night you died..."

He looked at Rose.

"...I had a choice."

"What choice?"

"To save you..."

He swallowed.

"...or save her."

I stared at him.

"And you chose Rose."

Rose's eyes filled with tears.

"He chose me because I was the original."

I couldn't breathe.

"But then why am I here?"

Luca whispered,

"Because I couldn't let you stay dead."

Rose shook her head.

"You brought her back."

He nodded.

"And in doing so, you erased me."

The café went silent.

I looked at Rose.

"You've been trapped here for thirteen years."

"Yes."

"Because of me?"

"No."

She looked at Luca.

"Because of him."

Luca looked away.

I felt tears fall down my cheeks.

Then my phone buzzed.

I looked down.

One final message.

Unknown Number

Choose.

Another appeared.

Rose or Jasmine.

Then:

One leaves Bellamy's.

And finally:

One becomes the story.

The lights went out again.

Rose reached for my hand.

Luca reached for the other.

And somewhere beneath us, a door began to unlock.

Click.

I looked at Rose.

She whispered:

"Whatever you do..."

Her eyes met mine.

"...don't choose yourself."

Then the floor beneath us opened.

I screamed.

Rose's hand slipped from mine.

"JASMINE!"

Luca grabbed my arm.

For one terrifying second, we were falling.

Then—

CRASH.

I hit the ground.

Pain shot through my shoulder.

I opened my eyes.

Luca was beside me.

Rose was gone.

"Rose?"

No answer.

I pushed myself up.

"Rose!"

"She fell somewhere else," Luca said.

"Then find her!"

I stood.

We were no longer inside Bellamy's.

At least, not the Bellamy's I knew.

The room looked exactly like the café...

but abandoned.

The tables were covered in dust.

The windows were boarded up.

The lights flickered overhead.

And on the wall was a giant clock.

The hands were frozen at 8:13.

Luca looked around.

"We're underneath the café."

"Where's Rose?"

"I don't know."

A voice answered from the darkness.

"You're always looking for her."

I froze.

Luca stepped in front of me.

"Evelyn?"

She emerged from the shadows.

"No."

I stared at her.

"Then who are you?"

She smiled.

"The version of me your father forgot."

My stomach dropped.

"What does that mean?"

She walked toward the clock.

"This is where the original story began."

I looked around.

"This is Bellamy's?"

"Before it became a café."

"What was it?"

"A writing room."

She touched the wall.

"Your father came here to write the perfect life."

"And he created us?"

"He created the first draft."

I swallowed.

"Rose."

"Yes."

"Was she the first Jasmine?"

Evelyn nodded.

"The original."

"Then what am I?"

She looked at me.

"The rewrite."

The words hurt.

"I don't understand."

"You weren't supposed to exist."

I stared at her.

"You were created because Rose refused to become the ending."

I looked at Luca.

"What ending?"

He looked away.

Evelyn answered.

"Her death."

Silence.

"Your father wrote that Rose would die at fourteen."

I felt sick.

"Why?"

"He needed a sacrifice to keep the story alive."

"And Rose refused?"

"She did more than refuse."

Evelyn smiled faintly.

"She changed the story herself."

I stared at the old writing desk in the corner.

There was a notebook sitting on it.

Black leather.

Rose-gold letters.

The same notebook Luca had shown me.

I walked toward it.

"Don't."

Luca's voice stopped me.

I looked back.

"Why?"

"Because that's the original."

I reached for it anyway.

The moment my fingers touched the cover, memories flooded through me.

Rose sitting at the desk.

Writing.

Crying.

Luca beside her.

My father standing behind them.

Rose looked up.

"You can't make me do this."

Daniel's voice was cold.

"You don't get to decide how the story ends."

Rose looked at Luca.

"Then I'll change it."

She grabbed the pen.

And wrote one sentence.

Jasmine will survive.

I gasped.

The memory shifted.

Luca was screaming.

Daniel was reaching for the notebook.

Rose was running.

Then she turned.

She looked directly at me.

At fourteen-year-old me.

And whispered:

"I'm sorry."

The memory shattered.

I stumbled backward.

Luca caught me.

"She's the one who created you."

I stared at him.

"Rose created me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because she knew she couldn't survive."

My voice broke.

"She created another version of herself to take her place."

Luca nodded.

"And that version became me."

I stared at him.

"You."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because Rose made me promise."

"Promise what?"

"To let you live without knowing."

I pulled away.

"You let me believe my entire life was real."

"It was real."

"But it wasn't mine."

Luca looked at me.

"It became yours."

I didn't know whether to cry or scream.

Then I heard something.

A soft tapping.

From behind the wall.

Knock.

I turned.

"Rose?"

The wall shook.

Then a voice whispered:

"Jasmine."

I ran toward it.

Luca grabbed my arm.

"Wait."

"No."

"It's a trap."

"It's Rose."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know her."

He stared at me.

I pulled away.

"Don't stop me."

We moved the old bookshelf.

Behind it was a small door.

I opened it.

Rose was sitting inside.

She looked exhausted.

Her pink hoodie was torn.

Her hands were covered in ink.

"Rose."

She looked up.

"You came."

I knelt beside her.

"What happened?"

She looked at Luca.

"He left me."

Luca froze.

"I didn't."

"You did."

"When?"

"The night you chose Jasmine."

I looked at Luca.

"She's talking about me."

Rose nodded.

"He promised me he'd come back."

Luca's eyes filled with tears.

"I tried."

"You never came."

"I couldn't."

"You could have."

Rose looked at me.

"And then you were born."

I swallowed.

"I didn't know."

"I know."

She reached for my hand.

"I don't blame you."

"Then who do you blame?"

She looked toward the ceiling.

"Everyone."

A long silence followed.

Then she whispered:

"Especially myself."

I squeezed her hand.

"What happens now?"

Rose looked at me.

"The story gave us a choice."

"Which is?"

"One Jasmine leaves."

"And the other?"

"She becomes the story."

I shook my head.

"No."

Rose smiled sadly.

"You can't fight it."

"Watch me."

Luca looked at me.

"Jasmine..."

"No."

I stood.

"I've spent thirteen years living a life I didn't know was written for me."

I looked at Rose.

"And you've spent thirteen years trapped because you gave it to me."

Rose nodded.

"So neither of us wins."

"No."

I looked toward the original notebook.

"Then we don't choose."

Luca frowned.

"What are you saying?"

"We rewrite the rules."

Rose stared at me.

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"Because the story always takes a sacrifice."

I picked up the pen.

"Then let it take the author."

Everyone went silent.

I opened the original draft.

At the bottom of the final page was one sentence:

ONE JASMINE MUST DIE.

I crossed it out.

Then I wrote:

NO JASMINE HAS TO DIE.

The entire room shook.

The clock began ticking.

8:14.

8:15.

8:16.

Rose grabbed my arm.

"Jasmine!"

The pages began turning rapidly.

Luca looked terrified.

"Stop writing."

"Why?"

"Because the story is fighting back."

Ink began spreading across the page.

My sentence disappeared.

I wrote it again.

NO JASMINE HAS TO DIE.

The ink disappeared.

I wrote it again.

NO JASMINE HAS TO DIE.

Again.

And again.

Until my hand cramped.

Then something strange happened.

The ink stopped disappearing.

The sentence remained.

Rose stared at the page.

"What did you do?"

I looked down.

"I changed the ending."

Luca slowly smiled.

"No."

I looked at him.

"You changed the rules."

The notebook slammed shut.

A voice echoed through the room.

Not Evelyn.

Not Daniel.

Not Rose.

Mine.

"Every story has a price."

I froze.

The voice continued.

"You have until midnight to decide who pays it."

The clock began moving again.

8:17 PM.

Rose looked at me.

"Jasmine..."

"What?"

She pointed behind me.

I turned.

A new door had appeared.

Across it were four words:

THE AUTHOR IS WAITING.

And beneath them...

a name.

Daniel Rose.

My father.

I looked at Luca.

"He's alive."

Luca's expression changed.

"Yes."

Rose stood beside me.

"Then it's time we find out why he wrote us."

I reached for the door.

This time, I wasn't afraid.

Because for the first time since I walked into Bellamy's...

I wasn't following the story anymore.

I was writing it.

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About the author

Jasmine Bruce

🖋️ Jasmine in Ink is a romance author who believes the best stories are the ones that make you fall in love, scream at your screen, and stay up way too late turning the page. 🥀 Writing stories filled with slow-burn romance, complicated relationships, secrets, heartbreak, second chances, and unforgettable characters, Jasmine creates worlds where love is never quite as simple as it seems. 🌹 From contemporary romance to darker, more dramatic stories, every book is written to give readers a little escape—and hopefully leave them wanting more. 🖤🌹 Currently writing: The Space Between Us Author: Jasmine in Ink Genres: Romance • Contemporary Romance • Dark Romance • Romantic Suspense ✨ Come for the romance. Stay for the secrets.

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After 13 Years

Chapter 1: Chapter One -The Story I Never Wrote

Chapter 2: Chapter Two - Bellamy’s

Chapter 3: Chapter Three — The Girl Who Forgot

Chapter 4: Chapter Four — The Notebook

Chapter 5: Chapter Five — The Girl Who Came Back

Chapter 6: Chapter Six — The Father Who Wasn’t Dead

Chapter 7: Chapter Seven — The Man in the Doorway

Chapter 8: Chapter Eight — The Boy in the Story

Chapter 9: Chapter Nine — The Story Beneath the Story

Chapter 10: Chapter Ten — The Girl Before Jasmine

Chapter 11: Chapter Eleven — The Girl Who Killed Herself

Chapter 12: Chapter Twelve — The Third Jasmine

Chapter 13: Chapter Thirteen — The Choice Beneath Bellamy’s

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