After 13 Years (pt 2)

The door handle moved again.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Luca stepped in front of me.

"Stay behind me."

I couldn't move.

My eyes were locked on the door.

"Luca..."

"I know."

The handle stopped.

For one heartbeat, there was silence.

Then the door opened.

A woman stood on the other side.

Long dark hair.

Pale skin.

A small scar near her eyebrow.

And eyes that looked exactly like the ones staring back at me from the photographs scattered throughout my apartment.

My breath caught.

Rose.

She looked at me.

Not Luca.

Me.

And she smiled.

Not warmly.

Almost sadly.

"Hi, Jasmine."

My knees nearly gave out.

Luca whispered my name.

But Rose didn't take her eyes off me.

"You look exactly like I remember."

I swallowed.

"You're Rose."

Her smile disappeared.

"I was."

I stared at her.

"What does that mean?"

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

"It means the girl you're looking at isn't the girl you were told about."

Luca's voice hardened.

"Rose, don't."

She finally looked at him.

"You've had thirteen years to tell her the truth."

"I was trying to protect her."

"You were trying to protect yourself."

Luca flinched.

I looked between them.

"Somebody please explain what the hell is happening."

Rose walked toward the laptop.

She looked at the screen.

Her expression changed immediately.

"You found it."

I nodded.

"The original draft."

Rose slowly reached for the laptop.

"That's not the original."

I frowned.

"What?"

She turned the screen toward me.

"There was another one."

My stomach dropped.

"How many versions of this story are there?"

Rose looked at me.

"Three."

"Three?"

She nodded.

"The first was mine."

She pointed at the screen.

"The second was yours."

I stared at her.

"And the third?"

Rose's eyes darkened.

"The third is the one we're living in."

Silence.

I felt like the room had tilted beneath my feet.

"So I'm not real?"

Rose's face softened.

"No."

I waited.

She shook her head.

"You're real."

I exhaled.

"But you weren't supposed to be."

My heart sank.

"What happened?"

Rose looked at Luca.

He looked away.

She sighed.

"Thirteen years ago, someone decided I needed to disappear."

"Daniel?"

Rose nodded.

"But Daniel wasn't working alone."

My blood ran cold.

"Who else?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she reached into her coat and pulled out an old photograph.

She handed it to me.

I stared at it.

There were four people.

Rose.

Luca.

Daniel.

And—

I stopped breathing.

A fourth girl stood beside them.

She looked like me.

Not similar.

Not close.

Me.

Same face.

Same eyes.

Same smile.

But she was wearing a necklace I'd never seen before.

I turned the photograph over.

There was handwriting on the back.

The replacement is ready.

My fingers began trembling.

"Who is she?"

Rose whispered:

"You."

I looked up.

"No."

"You were created thirteen years ago."

"That's impossible."

"I know."

"Then who created me?"

Rose hesitated.

And that hesitation scared me more than anything she'd said.

"Your author."

I stared at her.

"That's me."

Rose shook her head.

"No, Jasmine."

She stepped closer.

"You've spent thirteen years believing you were writing this story."

She pointed toward the laptop.

"But the story has been writing you."

The screen suddenly flickered.

The cursor moved by itself.

One letter appeared.

Then another.

R

O

S

E

My heart pounded.

The computer typed a sentence.

SHE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO COME BACK.

Rose stared at the screen.

For the first time, she looked afraid.

Then another sentence appeared.

BUT SHE DID.

The lights went out.

I screamed.

Something crashed downstairs.

Luca grabbed my hand.

"Don't let go."

Rose whispered from somewhere in the darkness.

"It's too late."

The lights flickered back on.

Rose was gone.

So was Luca.

I stood alone in the room.

My phone buzzed.

One new message.

Unknown number.

I opened it.

You wanted the truth.

A second message appeared.

Now finish the story.

Then a final message.

Or Rose dies again.

I stared at the screen.

My hands went numb.

Because beneath the messages was a photograph.

A photograph of Rose.

Alive.

Terrified.

And sitting inside a room I recognized.

Bellamy's Café.

Then I noticed the timestamp.

Tomorrow. 11:13 PM.

My eyes widened.

Someone had already decided what happened next.

But this time...

I wasn't going to let the story decide for me.

I didn't sleep.

Not even for a minute.

I spent the entire night staring at the photograph on my phone.

Rose.

Alive.

Sitting inside Bellamy's Café.

Tomorrow.

11:13 PM.

The same place where this entire nightmare seemed to have started.

I looked at the clock.

10:47 PM.

Tomorrow had already become today.

I picked up my laptop.

The screen was still open to the message.

YOU WANTED THE TRUTH.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Then I typed:

WHO ARE YOU?

I hit enter.

Nothing.

I waited.

Five seconds.

Ten.

Then the cursor moved.

Letters appeared one by one.

YOU ALREADY KNOW ME.

My stomach tightened.

I DON'T.

The response came immediately.

YOU WROTE ME.

I froze.

Another line appeared.

OR AT LEAST... YOU THOUGHT YOU DID.

I pushed away from the desk.

"No."

The laptop screen flickered.

A document opened.

At the top was a title I'd never seen before.

AFTER 13 YEARS — DRAFT THREE

My heart started racing.

I clicked it.

The first page appeared.

There was no introduction.

No chapter heading.

Just one sentence.

Jasmine woke up thirteen years later with no memory of what she'd done.

I stopped breathing.

I scrolled.

The next sentence appeared.

She believed she was the author.

Another.

She believed Rose was fictional.

Another.

She believed Luca loved her.

I slammed the laptop shut.

"No."

A knock came from my front door.

I jumped.

"Jasmine?"

Luca.

I rushed to the door and opened it.

He stood there, breathing heavily.

"You came here alone?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Where's Rose?"

His expression changed.

"She disappeared."

My stomach dropped.

"What do you mean disappeared?"

"She was there one second..."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"And then she wasn't."

I stepped aside.

"Come in."

He entered.

I pointed toward the laptop.

"Something happened."

He looked at the screen.

His face immediately went pale.

"You found Draft Three."

I stared at him.

"You knew about it?"

Luca didn't answer.

"Luca."

"I knew it existed."

"Who wrote it?"

Silence.

I stepped closer.

"Who?"

He looked at me.

"You."

I laughed.

It wasn't funny.

"I didn't write that."

"You did."

"No, I didn't."

"You just don't remember."

My chest tightened.

"What happened thirteen years ago?"

Luca looked toward the window.

"You weren't supposed to survive either."

I stared at him.

"What?"

"Rose wasn't the only one they were trying to erase."

My voice dropped.

"Who was they?"

Luca finally looked at me.

"Your first story."

I frowned.

"What about it?"

"You wrote a character who wasn't supposed to exist."

My blood ran cold.

"Who?"

He whispered:

"Me."

I couldn't move.

"You wrote Luca before you ever met Luca."

My heart pounded.

"That doesn't make sense."

"It does if you understand what happened."

He walked toward the laptop.

"Your original story wasn't fiction, Jasmine."

He opened it.

"You weren't creating people."

"You were remembering them."

The room went completely silent.

I stared at the pages.

Names.

Places.

Conversations.

Things I'd never remembered writing.

But somehow...

I knew every word.

Then I saw something that made my blood run cold.

A handwritten note appeared at the bottom of the page.

Jasmine — if you're reading this, the third draft has already begun.

I touched the screen.

"What does that mean?"

Luca's eyes met mine.

"It means someone has rewritten the story."

"Who?"

Before he could answer—

BANG.

The front window shattered.

Luca grabbed me and pulled me to the floor.

Glass scattered across the room.

Someone had thrown a book through the window.

An old notebook.

I crawled toward it.

The cover was black.

And written across the front in faded red ink were four words:

THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR'S JOURNAL

I opened it.

The first page contained a photograph.

Me.

Luca.

Rose.

And Daniel.

But the date underneath it was impossible.

August 15, 2013.

I stared at the photograph.

Then I noticed something.

There was a fifth person standing behind us.

Someone whose face had been scratched out.

Underneath the photograph was a sentence.

The fifth author is the only one who remembers the ending.

I looked at Luca.

"Who is that?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he whispered:

"Close the book."

"Why?"

"Because if you read the next page..."

He swallowed.

"...she'll know you're awake."

My hands tightened around the journal.

"Who?"

The page turned by itself.

And there, written in fresh ink, were three words:

Hello, Jasmine.

Then another sentence appeared.

I've been waiting thirteen years for you to remember me.

I looked at Luca.

He was staring at the page in complete terror.

And for the first time since this nightmare began...

I realized something.

Luca wasn't afraid of Rose.

He wasn't afraid of Daniel.

He wasn't even afraid of the story.

He was afraid of her.

Whoever she was.

And somehow...

I knew her too.

The words stared back at me.

Hello, Jasmine.

My hands went numb.

I looked at Luca.

"Who is she?"

He didn't answer.

"Luca."

Still nothing.

I grabbed his arm.

"Who is she?"

His eyes remained fixed on the journal.

"The person who started all of this."

My stomach dropped.

"The first author?"

He shook his head.

"No."

He slowly looked at me.

"The fifth."

I glanced back at the journal.

The page had changed.

A new sentence appeared beneath the others.

You finally found him.

I froze.

"Him?"

Luca stepped backward.

"Don't read anymore."

I ignored him.

The ink continued appearing.

He told you I was the villain.

Another line.

He told you Rose was the problem.

Another.

He told you Jasmine was the replacement.

My heart pounded.

Then the final sentence appeared.

He lied.

I looked at Luca.

"You said you were protecting me."

"I was."

"Then why is the journal saying you're lying?"

"Because the journal isn't finished."

"What does that mean?"

He didn't answer.

I flipped the page.

There was a name written at the top.

THE FIFTH AUTHOR

Underneath it:

Daniel Rose

I stopped.

"Daniel?"

Luca's face went pale.

"No."

"But it says—"

"That's not his name."

I looked at him.

"What?"

"Daniel wasn't the fifth author."

He reached for the journal.

I pulled it away.

"Then who was?"

Luca stared at the page.

"The person who taught Daniel how to write the story."

A cold feeling spread through me.

"Who?"

Before he could answer, my phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

I opened it.

A photograph appeared.

Daniel.

But he wasn't alone.

Standing beside him was a woman.

Long dark hair.

A familiar face.

My face.

Except older.

Much older.

I stared at the picture.

"Who is that?"

Luca didn't move.

I zoomed in.

Around the woman's neck was the same necklace from the photograph I'd seen earlier.

The one I had never owned.

The one Rose had been wearing.

My voice shook.

"That's Rose."

Luca nodded.

"Before she became Rose."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"She wasn't the first version either."

I felt dizzy.

"How many versions are there?"

Luca looked at me.

"Five."

The room seemed to disappear around me.

"Five?"

He nodded.

"Five girls."

"Five Jasmines?"

"No."

His voice was barely a whisper.

"Five authors."

I stared at him.

"And I'm one of them?"

"No."

He stepped closer.

"You're the story."

My phone buzzed again.

Another message.

Ask Luca what happened to the other four.

I looked at him.

He closed his eyes.

"Don't."

"Tell me."

"Jasmine..."

"Tell me!"

His eyes opened.

And I saw tears in them.

"The first author disappeared."

My breathing slowed.

"The second went insane."

My stomach turned.

"The third tried to destroy the story."

I couldn't speak.

"And the fourth..."

He stopped.

"What happened to the fourth?"

Luca looked directly at me.

"She became Rose."

I stared at him.

"And the fifth?"

He didn't answer.

I already knew.

My phone buzzed again.

One final message.

You're looking at her.

I slowly lowered the phone.

Luca whispered my name.

I looked at him.

"You said I was the story."

He nodded.

"But what if I'm the author too?"

His expression changed.

For the first time, Luca looked genuinely terrified.

The journal slammed shut by itself.

The room went completely silent.

Then, from somewhere behind me, a woman's voice whispered:

"Now you're finally asking the right questions."

I turned.

Nobody was there.

But on the wall behind me, written in fresh black ink, were five names.

ROSE.

JASMINE.

AMELIA.

EVELYN.

AND YOU.

I stared at the last name.

It wasn't a name I recognized.

Yet somehow...

I knew exactly who it belonged to.

My sister.

My sister.

The words wouldn't leave my head.

I stared at the wall.

ROSE.

JASMINE.

AMELIA.

EVELYN.

AND YOU.

Five names.

Five authors.

But there was something else.

A sixth space beneath them.

Blank.

Waiting.

"Luca," I whispered.

He didn't answer.

"Who is my sister?"

He looked at me like he already knew I was going to ask.

"I don't know if you should meet her."

"She's alive?"

His silence was enough.

My heart started pounding.

"You know where she is."

"Yes."

"Then take me to her."

"Jasmine—"

"Take me to her."

Luca looked down.

"She isn't what you remember."

"I don't remember her at all."

"That's the problem."

He walked toward the wall and touched the name AMELIA.

"She wasn't always your best friend."

I froze.

"What?"

"Amelia was your sister."

My entire body went cold.

"No."

"She changed her name."

"Why?"

"Because she wanted to disappear."

I shook my head.

"This doesn't make sense."

"Neither does the story."

I looked at him.

"Where is she?"

"Bellamy's."

My stomach dropped.

"Of course."

Luca grabbed his jacket.

"We have to go."

⸻

Bellamy's was almost empty when we arrived.

The clock above the counter read:

11:07 PM.

Six minutes.

Until the time from the photograph.

I stepped inside.

The bell above the door rang.

Nobody looked up.

Then I saw her.

Sitting in the same corner where I'd first seen Luca.

Amelia.

She looked up.

Her eyes met mine.

And she started crying.

I stopped walking.

"You knew."

She wiped her cheek.

"I've always known."

"About Rose?"

She nodded.

"About Luca?"

Another nod.

"About me?"

Her voice broke.

"Most of all."

I walked toward her.

"You're my sister."

Amelia looked down.

"Yes."

The word barely escaped her mouth.

I sat across from her.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you weren't supposed to remember."

"Who made you hide it?"

She looked toward Luca.

Then back at me.

"Your mother."

I froze.

"My mother?"

Amelia nodded.

"She was the first person who found the story."

I stared at her.

"What story?"

"The original one."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a small envelope.

She placed it on the table.

My name was written across the front.

In handwriting I recognized immediately.

Mine.

I opened it.

Inside was a single photograph.

Two little girls stood outside Bellamy's.

One was me.

The other was Amelia.

But on the back was a date.

August 15, 2013.

And underneath:

Tonight, one sister will remember.

I looked at Amelia.

"What happened that night?"

She took a shaky breath.

"You wrote the first story."

I frowned.

"I thought Rose did."

"She helped you."

"Why?"

"Because you were afraid."

"Of what?"

Amelia looked at Luca.

He stepped closer.

"Of what you had created."

I shook my head.

"What did I create?"

Amelia whispered:

"A world that could rewrite reality."

The lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then every light in Bellamy's went dark.

Amelia grabbed my hand.

"Don't look at the windows."

"Why?"

"Because she's here."

My heart stopped.

"Rose?"

Amelia shook her head.

"No."

A soft voice came from behind me.

"Jasmine."

I slowly turned.

A woman stood in the doorway.

She looked familiar.

Not because I'd seen her before.

Because I'd dreamed about her.

She smiled.

And the second I saw her face, a memory slammed into me.

Two little girls.

A black notebook.

A promise.

If anything happens, don't let them make me forget you.

I gasped.

My sister.

Not Amelia.

Someone else.

Someone I'd forgotten completely.

The woman stepped forward.

"You finally remembered me."

My knees went weak.

Luca whispered:

"That's the fifth author."

The woman smiled.

"No."

She looked directly at me.

"I'm the first."

She reached into her coat and pulled out an old black notebook.

The same one from my memories.

Then she said the words that shattered everything:

"Jasmine, you didn't forget your sister."

She stepped closer.

"You wrote her out."

I couldn't breathe.

The woman stood in front of me, holding the black notebook against her chest.

You wrote her out.

The words echoed in my head.

"What does that mean?"

She looked at me with tears in her eyes.

"It means you didn't forget your sister, Jasmine."

She took a step closer.

"You erased her."

I shook my head.

"No. I would never do that."

"You did."

"Why?"

She looked toward Amelia.

Amelia wouldn't meet my eyes.

Then I looked at Luca.

He looked just as guilty.

"How many of you knew?"

Nobody answered.

My chest tightened.

"How many people knew I had a sister?"

Amelia whispered, "Everyone."

I stared at her.

"Everyone except me?"

She nodded.

I laughed bitterly.

"This is insane."

The woman opened the notebook.

"You want to know what happened thirteen years ago?"

I nodded.

She turned to the first page.

There was a drawing.

Two little girls standing outside Bellamy's.

One had a pink hoodie.

The other held a black notebook.

Underneath them were two names.

JASMINE + JUNE

I stared at the second name.

"June?"

The woman nodded.

"Your sister."

Something inside me cracked.

June.

The name felt familiar.

Like a song I'd forgotten I knew.

I closed my eyes.

And suddenly—

I remembered.

⸻

A little girl was sitting beside me at Bellamy's.

She was crying.

I was holding the black notebook.

"Don't be scared, June."

"You promised you wouldn't leave me."

"I won't."

"You promise?"

I smiled.

"I promise."

She wiped her tears.

"What are you writing?"

"A story."

"About us?"

"Kind of."

"What happens in it?"

I looked down at the page.

"We get to choose what happens."

June smiled.

"Then make us happy."

I laughed.

"I will."

The memory changed.

Daniel was standing across the room.

Rose was beside him.

Luca was younger.

And June was screaming.

"Jasmine, RUN!"

Then everything went black.

⸻

I opened my eyes.

I was back at Bellamy's.

Tears were running down my face.

"I remember her."

Amelia started crying.

"You do?"

I nodded.

"June."

The woman smiled sadly.

"Finally."

I looked at her.

"Who are you?"

She stepped into the light.

"I'm June."

My heart stopped.

"No."

She nodded.

"I've been waiting thirteen years for you to remember me."

I stared at my sister.

The little girl from my memories was standing in front of me.

Older.

Changed.

But unmistakably her.

"Why did I write you out?"

June looked down at the notebook.

"Because you were trying to save me."

"From Daniel?"

"From the story."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

June opened the notebook to another page.

There was a sentence written in my handwriting.

If June disappears, Jasmine survives.

My blood ran cold.

"I wrote that?"

June nodded.

"You made a deal."

"With who?"

She looked toward the dark windows.

"The story."

The lights flickered.

Luca stepped closer.

"June..."

She turned toward him.

"You knew this day would come."

"I did."

"And you knew what would happen."

She nodded.

"That's why I came back."

I looked between them.

"What happens now?"

June closed the notebook.

"Now the story gets its ending."

My phone buzzed.

I looked down.

A new Wattpad notification.

CHAPTER 20 — THE LAST RULE

My heart sank.

"I didn't publish that."

June smiled.

"No."

She looked directly at me.

"I did."

Then every phone inside Bellamy's began ringing at once.

And from somewhere in the darkness, a voice whispered:

"Let the final story begin."

Every phone in Bellamy's began ringing.

One after another.

Then all at once.

The sound was unbearable.

I covered my ears.

"Make it stop!"

June stood completely still.

She wasn't scared.

She was waiting.

"For what?" I asked.

She looked at me.

"For you."

My phone stopped ringing.

Then every other phone went silent.

The café became completely still.

Luca looked toward the windows.

"We need to leave."

June shook her head.

"No."

"June—"

"If she leaves now, they'll start again."

"Who?"

June looked at me.

"The authors."

My stomach twisted.

"How many are there?"

"Five."

"Where are they?"

June pointed toward the walls.

"Everywhere."

I looked around.

Nothing.

Then I noticed something I hadn't seen before.

Words were appearing on the walls.

RULE ONE: NEVER CHANGE THE ORIGINAL STORY.

Another line appeared.

RULE TWO: NEVER WRITE A CHARACTER BACK TO LIFE.

My heart stopped.

I looked at June.

"What did you do?"

She didn't answer.

A third sentence appeared.

RULE THREE: NEVER LET JASMINE REMEMBER JUNE.

I stared at it.

"But I remember her now."

June smiled sadly.

"Exactly."

The lights flickered.

Luca grabbed my hand.

"We have to go."

I pulled away.

"No."

He looked at me.

"I'm not running anymore."

I walked toward the counter.

There was a black notebook sitting there.

I opened it.

The first page was blank.

I picked up a pen.

June's expression changed.

"Jasmine, don't."

"Why?"

"Because once you write something in that book..."

She stopped.

"What?"

"...the story accepts it as truth."

I stared at the blank page.

My entire life suddenly felt like one giant question.

Maybe this was my chance.

I could write the truth.

I could write that Rose survived.

That June survived.

That Luca never betrayed anyone.

That Daniel never existed.

That none of this ever happened.

I put the pen against the paper.

Then I stopped.

Because one sentence appeared before I could write anything.

CHOOSE CAREFULLY.

I looked at June.

"What happens if I break the rules?"

She whispered:

"The story chooses for you."

I looked back at the page.

Another sentence appeared.

ONE PERSON MUST BE ERASED.

My heart sank.

"No."

June stepped closer.

"That's the last rule."

I shook my head.

"I won't do it."

"You have to."

"No."

"If you don't choose..."

She looked at Luca.

"...the story will."

Luca stepped forward.

"Choose me."

I stared at him.

"What?"

His eyes filled with tears.

"You heard her."

"No."

"Jasmine."

"No!"

He reached for my hand.

"I've been part of this story for thirteen years."

He smiled sadly.

"Maybe it's time I stopped being one."

I shook my head.

"You don't get to decide that."

"Someone has to."

I looked at the notebook.

Then at Luca.

Then June.

Then Amelia.

And finally—

Rose appeared in the doorway.

She was holding another black notebook.

"Don't choose him."

Everyone turned.

Rose walked toward us.

"The story wants you to think Luca is the sacrifice."

She placed her notebook beside mine.

"But that's not the real choice."

"What is?"

Rose looked directly at me.

"The story doesn't want you to erase a person."

She opened her notebook.

"It wants you to erase yourself."

Silence.

My heart stopped.

I looked at the blank page.

The pen slipped from my fingers.

Then the notebook began writing by itself.

JASMINE ROSE — CHARACTER STATUS: ACTIVE.

A second line appeared.

AUTHOR STATUS: UNKNOWN.

Then a third.

FINAL CHAPTER: READY.

I looked up.

"What happens if I refuse?"

Rose smiled.

For the first time, she looked relieved.

"Then you finally become the author."

The café doors slammed shut.

Every light went out.

And in the darkness, a voice whispered directly into my ear:

"Write your ending, Jasmine."

I opened my eyes.

The notebook was glowing beneath my hands.

And for the first time...

the blank page wasn't waiting for me to remember.

It was waiting for me to choose.

Jasmine stared at the screen until the words began to blur.

I know what happened thirteen years ago.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

She should have closed the laptop.

She should have called someone.

Instead, she typed the only question that mattered.

Who are you?

The three dots appeared almost immediately.

Then disappeared.

Appeared again.

Her heart pounded.

Finally, a message appeared.

Someone who was there.

Jasmine swallowed.

There was no way.

Thirteen years ago, she had been a completely different person. A teenager who believed the world was simple. A girl who wrote stories because reality wasn't always kind enough to give her the endings she wanted.

And then everything had changed.

Her memories of that summer had always been fragmented.

A missing afternoon.

A locked room.

A conversation she couldn't quite remember.

And one name.

Amelia.

Jasmine pushed away from the desk.

"No."

The word came out barely above a whisper.

She didn't want to think about Amelia.

Not again.

Not after everything she'd discovered.

Not after the messages.

Not after Bellamy's Café.

Not after Luca.

Her phone buzzed.

Jasmine froze.

A new message.

Don't trust Luca.

Her stomach dropped.

She immediately typed back.

Why?

The response came seconds later.

Because he remembers more than he's telling you.

Jasmine's breath caught.

She looked toward the window.

Outside, the street was quiet.

Too quiet.

She grabbed her phone and called Luca.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

No answer.

"Come on," she whispered.

Voicemail.

She hung up.

Then she called again.

Nothing.

A cold feeling settled over her.

Luca always answered.

Even when he was busy.

Even when she was angry with him.

Even when he didn't want to talk.

He always answered.

Jasmine opened the conversation again.

What does Luca remember?

This time, the typing bubble didn't appear.

Instead, a photograph appeared.

Jasmine's hand went numb.

She stared at the image.

It was old.

Faded.

Taken sometime around thirteen years ago.

There was Bellamy's Café in the background.

And standing outside it were three people.

A younger Luca.

A younger Amelia.

And—

Jasmine.

Her breath stopped.

"No..."

She zoomed in.

It was definitely her.

Same face.

Same eyes.

Same tiny scar near her eyebrow.

But Jasmine had no memory of ever being there.

She looked at the date stamped in the corner.

July 18, 2013.

Her birthday.

She dropped the phone onto the desk.

For thirteen years, she had believed she had never been to Bellamy's Café.

For thirteen years, she had believed Luca was a stranger.

For thirteen years, she had believed Amelia was nothing more than a character she'd created.

Her phone buzzed again.

Another message.

You didn't create Amelia, Jasmine.

She stopped breathing.

Another message appeared.

You remembered her.

Jasmine's eyes filled with tears.

Then the final message arrived.

Ask Luca what happened to her.

The room suddenly felt too small.

A knock came from downstairs.

Jasmine froze.

Another knock.

Three slow taps.

She didn't move.

"Jasmine?"

Her heart nearly stopped.

It was Luca.

She stared at the photograph on her screen.

Then toward the bedroom door.

He knocked again.

"Jasmine, open the door."

She stood slowly.

Her legs felt weak.

She walked downstairs without making a sound.

When she reached the front door, she didn't open it.

"Luca?"

Silence.

Then—

"Yeah."

She closed her eyes.

"What happened on July 18, 2013?"

Nothing.

Not a word.

Jasmine's heart sank.

She waited.

Finally, Luca spoke.

"You weren't supposed to remember that."

Her eyes opened.

And suddenly, every strange thing that had happened since she reopened her old manuscript felt different.

The messages.

The café.

Amelia.

The photograph.

Luca.

It wasn't a coincidence.

It had never been a coincidence.

Jasmine stepped away from the door.

"Who is Amelia?"

Silence.

Then Luca whispered something that made the blood drain from her face.

"She was your best friend."

Jasmine stared at the door.

"No."

"She disappeared thirteen years ago."

Jasmine shook her head.

"No. I created her."

"You wrote her because you couldn't remember her."

Her breath caught.

Luca continued.

"And Jasmine..."

His voice cracked.

"You were there when she disappeared."

The hallway went silent.

Jasmine couldn't move.

Couldn't breathe.

Couldn't think.

Then something slid underneath the front door.

A photograph.

She slowly crouched down and picked it up.

It was another picture from July 18, 2013.

This one showed Jasmine and Amelia standing outside Bellamy's Café.

But someone had written across the bottom in black ink:

ONE OF THEM NEVER LEFT.

Jasmine looked toward Luca.

"What does that mean?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, his voice came through the door.

"Because Amelia isn't dead."

Jasmine's heart stopped.

"She never was."

And somewhere upstairs—

Jasmine heard footsteps.

Someone was inside the house.

Jasmine couldn't breathe.

She stared at Luca through the glass of the front door.

Amelia is alive.

The words repeated inside her head until they barely sounded real.

Then—

A floorboard creaked upstairs.

Jasmine's eyes snapped toward the ceiling.

Luca heard it too.

His expression changed instantly.

"Jasmine," he said quietly. "Step away from the door."

"Someone's upstairs."

"I know."

Her stomach twisted.

"You knew?"

"Not until I got here."

Another creak.

This time, louder.

Jasmine backed away from the door.

Luca reached through the doorway the second she unlocked it.

"Stay behind me."

She grabbed his arm.

"No. You're going to tell me what is happening."

"Later."

"No, Luca. Right now."

He looked at her.

For the first time since she'd met him, he looked genuinely afraid.

"Jasmine, Amelia isn't the only thing you forgot."

Before she could respond, something crashed upstairs.

Jasmine jumped.

Luca immediately pulled her behind him.

"Stay here."

He moved toward the staircase.

"Luca—"

"Don't move."

He disappeared around the corner.

Jasmine stood frozen.

Every instinct told her to run.

Instead, she followed.

She reached the bottom of the stairs just as Luca reached the hallway.

A bedroom door stood open.

The room was dark.

Luca slowly pushed it farther open.

Empty.

He turned toward the bathroom.

Nothing.

Then he looked toward the window.

Open.

The curtains moved gently in the night air.

Whoever had been there was gone.

Jasmine stepped into the room.

There was something on the bed.

A small black notebook.

Her heart dropped.

She knew it.

She had seen it before.

Thirteen years ago.

She just didn't know how she knew.

She reached for it.

"Don't."

Luca's voice stopped her.

She turned.

"Why?"

"Because that's what started all of this."

Jasmine looked down at the notebook.

"What's inside?"

Luca didn't answer.

She opened it.

The first page contained handwriting she recognized immediately.

Jasmine.

Her own handwriting.

But she didn't remember writing any of it.

She turned the page.

July 18, 2013.

Underneath:

Amelia knows.

Another page.

Luca doesn't know everything.

Another.

If something happens to me, don't trust anyone.

Jasmine's hands began to shake.

She looked at Luca.

"You knew about this."

"I knew there was a notebook."

"You knew it was mine."

"Yes."

"And you never told me?"

"I was trying to protect you."

"From what?"

Luca stepped closer.

"From remembering."

Jasmine laughed bitterly.

"That's your excuse?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

He looked at her for a long moment.

"Because the last time you remembered everything..."

He stopped.

"What?"

"You tried to find Amelia."

Jasmine's heart pounded.

"And?"

"You found her."

The room seemed to tilt.

"Where?"

Luca's eyes dropped to the notebook.

"Bellamy's."

Jasmine shook her head.

"That doesn't make sense."

"It will."

She flipped through the pages faster.

Then she stopped.

A photograph had been tucked between two pages.

Jasmine pulled it out.

Her hands went completely still.

It was a photograph of her and Amelia.

But this time, they weren't outside Bellamy's Café.

They were inside.

Sitting at a table.

And behind them stood Luca.

Except he wasn't looking at the camera.

He was looking at someone else.

Someone standing just outside the frame.

On the back of the photograph were four words.

He was already there.

Jasmine looked up.

"Who was behind me?"

Luca didn't answer.

"Luca."

His jaw tightened.

Then—

A voice came from behind them.

"Me."

Jasmine froze.

She slowly turned.

A woman stood in the doorway.

Long dark hair.

Brown eyes.

A familiar smile.

Jasmine's entire body went cold.

The woman looked at her.

And smiled.

"Hi, Jazzy."

Jasmine stopped breathing.

She knew that voice.

Not from a story.

Not from a dream.

Not from a memory.

From somewhere deeper.

Somewhere buried.

"Amelia?"

The woman nodded.

Luca immediately stepped between them.

Amelia's smile disappeared.

"You always did let him protect you."

Jasmine stared at her.

"What happened thirteen years ago?"

Amelia's eyes filled with tears.

"You really don't remember?"

Jasmine shook her head.

"No."

Amelia looked at Luca.

Then back at Jasmine.

"Then he hasn't told you the worst part."

Luca's face went pale.

Jasmine looked between them.

"What worst part?"

Amelia took one step forward.

"Jasmine..."

She swallowed.

"You weren't the one who disappeared."

Jasmine's heart stopped.

Amelia continued.

"You were the one who came back."

Jasmine stared at Amelia.

She couldn't make sense of the words.

You weren't the one who disappeared.

Amelia's voice echoed in her head.

Then the second sentence hit harder.

You were the one who came back.

Jasmine shook her head.

"No."

Amelia didn't move.

"That's not possible."

"I know."

"I'm Jasmine."

"I know."

"This is my house."

"I know."

"My memories—"

"Were changed."

The room went silent.

Jasmine looked at Luca.

He wouldn't meet her eyes.

That was all the confirmation she needed.

"You knew."

Luca finally looked at her.

"I knew something was wrong."

"You knew."

"Jasmine—"

"How long?"

He swallowed.

"Since the day I met you."

Her chest tightened.

"You knew I wasn't remembering correctly."

"I suspected."

"You suspected?"

Her voice cracked.

"You watched me walk around believing a lie."

"I was trying to keep you alive."

"And you thought I didn't deserve to know why?"

Luca's expression broke.

"I thought knowing would get you killed."

Amelia stepped closer.

"He's not lying."

Jasmine looked at her.

"Then tell me."

Amelia hesitated.

"Tell me everything."

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Amelia walked to the bed and picked up the black notebook.

"You wrote this."

She opened it.

"You wrote down everything because you knew you'd forget."

Jasmine stared at the pages.

"I don't remember writing it."

"You weren't supposed to."

"Why?"

"Because someone made sure you wouldn't."

Jasmine's stomach dropped.

"Who?"

Amelia closed the notebook.

"We don't know."

Luca's jaw tightened.

"We know enough."

Amelia looked at him.

"Do we?"

The tension between them was immediate.

Jasmine noticed.

"You two have been doing this for thirteen years?"

Neither answered.

She laughed once, but there was no humor in it.

"This is insane."

Amelia walked toward her.

"You and I were best friends."

Jasmine's eyes filled with tears.

"You said I created you."

"I let you believe that."

"Why?"

"Because it was safer."

"Safer for who?"

Amelia looked away.

"For you."

Jasmine wiped her cheek.

"Then why did you disappear?"

Amelia's face changed.

For the first time, Jasmine saw genuine fear.

"I didn't."

Jasmine frowned.

"What?"

"I didn't disappear."

Amelia looked directly at her.

"You did."

Jasmine's breathing became shallow.

Amelia continued.

"After what happened at Bellamy's, you vanished for three days."

"I was here."

"No."

Amelia shook her head.

"You weren't."

Jasmine looked at Luca.

He nodded slowly.

"You were gone."

Her heart pounded.

"What happened during those three days?"

Luca's eyes darkened.

"We don't know."

"You don't know?"

"We found you on the fourth morning."

"Where?"

"Outside Bellamy's Café."

Jasmine's stomach twisted.

"Alone?"

"No."

She waited.

Luca looked at Amelia.

Amelia whispered:

"You were holding my hand."

Jasmine froze.

"What?"

"You were unconscious."

Amelia's eyes filled with tears.

"I thought you were dead."

Jasmine stared at her.

"Then what happened?"

"You woke up."

"And?"

"You didn't recognize me."

Jasmine's heart broke.

"I didn't recognize you?"

"No."

Amelia looked down.

"You didn't recognize Luca either."

Jasmine turned toward him.

His eyes were glassy.

"What did I say?"

Luca's voice was barely audible.

"You asked who we were."

Jasmine covered her mouth.

"No..."

"And then," Amelia whispered, "you looked at me and said something I'll never forget."

Jasmine lowered her hand.

"What?"

Amelia looked directly into her eyes.

"You told me..."

She paused.

"I killed you."

Silence.

Jasmine felt the room spinning.

"I would never—"

"I know."

Amelia's voice softened.

"You didn't mean it."

"Then why would I say that?"

"Because you didn't remember what happened."

Jasmine looked at Luca.

"Do you?"

He didn't answer.

"Luca."

His eyes met hers.

"Yes."

Her heart stopped.

"You remember?"

"I remember enough."

"Then tell me."

He stepped closer.

"You weren't the one who hurt Amelia."

Jasmine waited.

"You were trying to save her."

"From who?"

Luca looked toward the window.

His face hardened.

"From the person who wrote the original story."

Jasmine frowned.

"What story?"

Luca's eyes returned to hers.

"The one you thought you wrote."

A chill moved through her.

"What are you saying?"

Amelia slowly opened the notebook to the final page.

Jasmine looked down.

There was only one sentence.

Written in handwriting that wasn't hers.

Jasmine was never the author.

Her blood ran cold.

Then another line appeared beneath it.

Fresh ink.

As if someone had just written it.

She was the character.

Jasmine stumbled backward.

"No."

Luca grabbed her hand.

The second he touched her, a memory exploded through her mind.

Bellamy's Café.

Rain.

Amelia screaming.

A man standing behind them.

Luca running toward her.

And Jasmine—

holding a knife.

She gasped and pulled her hand away.

Luca stared at her.

"What did you see?"

Jasmine couldn't speak.

Because suddenly she remembered one more thing.

The man's face.

The face she had spent thirteen years trying to forget.

She looked at Luca.

Her voice trembled.

"I know who did it."

Amelia stepped forward.

"Who?"

Jasmine looked toward the bedroom mirror.

And whispered:

"My father."

My father.

The words barely left Jasmine's mouth before the room seemed to change.

Amelia stopped breathing.

Luca's expression hardened.

Neither of them looked surprised.

That scared Jasmine more than anything.

"You knew," she whispered.

Luca didn't answer.

"You both knew."

"Jasmine—"

"No."

She stepped backward.

"Don't do that. Don't say my name like that's supposed to make everything okay."

Luca's jaw tightened.

"I didn't know for certain."

"But you suspected."

"Yes."

"And you let me believe my father was dead."

"You weren't ready."

"I wasn't ready?"

Her voice cracked.

"I've spent thirteen years thinking I was losing my mind. Thinking the things I remembered were dreams. Thinking Amelia was a character I invented."

She pointed toward the notebook.

"I wrote an entire life around something I couldn't remember."

Amelia lowered her eyes.

"You didn't write it."

Jasmine looked at her.

"What?"

Amelia swallowed.

"Your father did."

Silence.

Jasmine felt the room tilt.

"My father wrote my story?"

"Not exactly."

Luca moved closer.

"Your father was trying to control what you remembered."

Jasmine shook her head.

"Why?"

"Because you saw something."

"What?"

Luca looked at Amelia.

Amelia nodded.

"You saw him kill someone."

Jasmine's stomach dropped.

"Who?"

Amelia's eyes filled with tears.

"My mother."

Jasmine froze.

"No."

"She found out what your father was doing."

Amelia's voice trembled.

"She tried to expose him."

"And he killed her?"

Amelia nodded.

Jasmine pressed a hand against her mouth.

A flash of memory struck her.

A woman's scream.

A glass breaking.

Blood on a white floor.

A man's hand around her wrist.

Her father whispering:

"Forget this."

Jasmine gasped.

Luca caught her before she fell.

"Jasmine."

She pushed him away.

"I remember."

Amelia stepped toward her.

"What?"

Jasmine stared into nothing.

"The house."

"What house?"

"My father's house."

Luca's face changed.

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"Think."

Jasmine closed her eyes.

The memory returned in pieces.

A hallway.

A red door.

A painting.

A staircase.

And a room at the end of the hall.

"There was a room."

"What room?"

"I don't know."

She opened her eyes.

"He kept things there."

"What things?"

Jasmine looked at Amelia.

"Pictures."

Amelia frowned.

"Of us."

Luca went completely still.

"That's impossible."

"Why?"

"Because your father destroyed every photograph."

Jasmine shook her head.

"He didn't."

She looked toward the notebook.

"He kept them."

Amelia moved closer.

"What else do you remember?"

Jasmine's breathing quickened.

"A phone."

"What about it?"

"My father had a phone."

Luca frowned.

"He had dozens."

"No."

Jasmine shook her head.

"This one was different."

She suddenly remembered.

A small black phone hidden inside a drawer.

Her father had been speaking to someone.

Someone whose voice she recognized.

Someone who had been helping him.

Jasmine's eyes widened.

"Luca."

"What?"

"My father wasn't alone."

Amelia's face went pale.

"Who was with him?"

Jasmine swallowed.

"I don't know."

Then another memory surfaced.

The man's voice.

Calm.

Familiar.

Standing beside her father.

And saying:

"If she remembers, we're both finished."

Jasmine stared at Luca.

"That voice..."

"What?"

She couldn't answer.

Because she recognized it.

She had heard it recently.

Very recently.

Her phone buzzed.

All three of them jumped.

Jasmine pulled it from her pocket.

Unknown number.

One message.

You finally remembered.

Her blood ran cold.

Another message appeared.

Now ask Luca what happened after you disappeared.

Jasmine slowly looked at him.

Luca's face had gone pale.

"What happened?" she whispered.

He didn't speak.

"Luca."

Nothing.

"WHAT HAPPENED?"

He finally looked at her.

And Jasmine saw something she'd never seen in his eyes before.

Fear.

"You came back," he said quietly.

"But you weren't alone."

Jasmine's heart pounded.

"Who was with me?"

Luca stared at her.

Then whispered:

"Your father."

The phone buzzed again.

Jasmine looked down.

A photograph appeared.

It showed her standing outside Bellamy's Café thirteen years ago.

Her father stood behind her.

And beside him—

was Luca.

But the worst part wasn't seeing them together.

It was the date beneath the photograph.

July 21, 2013.

Three days after Jasmine supposedly disappeared.

Jasmine looked at Luca.

"You were there."

He closed his eyes.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Luca opened them.

"Because your father asked me to bring you home."

Jasmine's blood ran cold.

"And did you?"

Luca hesitated.

"No."

"Why?"

He stepped closer.

"Because by then..."

His voice broke.

"I knew what he had done."

Jasmine stared at him.

"What did you do?"

Luca looked at Amelia.

Then back at Jasmine.

"I helped you disappear."

Jasmine's heart stopped.

Before she could respond, another message appeared.

He saved you once.

A second message followed.

But he won't be able to save you this time.

Then the lights went out.

And from somewhere downstairs came the sound of the front door opening.

The front door creaked open downstairs.

Jasmine froze.

Luca immediately moved in front of her.

"Stay here."

"No."

"Jasmine—"

"I've spent thirteen years being told what I can and can't remember."

She stepped beside him.

"I'm done hiding."

Amelia stood behind them, clutching the black notebook against her chest.

Another sound came from downstairs.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Luca reached for the weapon hidden beneath his jacket.

Jasmine's heart pounded.

"Who is it?"

He didn't answer.

The footsteps stopped.

Then a man's voice floated up the stairs.

"Jasmine?"

Her blood turned cold.

She knew that voice.

Her father's.

But that was impossible.

Her father had been dead for thirteen years.

Jasmine looked at Amelia.

Amelia's face had gone completely white.

"No," she whispered.

The man appeared at the bottom of the staircase.

Older.

Grayer.

But unmistakable.

Jasmine's father.

She couldn't move.

He looked at her and smiled.

"You finally remembered."

Jasmine's eyes filled with tears.

"You're dead."

He chuckled.

"That's what everyone was supposed to believe."

Luca stepped forward.

"Stay away from her."

Her father looked at him.

"You always were protective of her."

Jasmine suddenly remembered.

The hallway.

The red door.

The night she disappeared.

Luca standing between her and her father.

Amelia screaming.

A gunshot.

Then darkness.

"You lied to me," Jasmine whispered.

Her father looked almost disappointed.

"I protected you."

"You erased my memories."

"I gave you a chance to live."

"You took thirteen years from me."

He sighed.

"You wouldn't have survived knowing the truth."

Jasmine looked at Amelia.

Then at Luca.

Then back at her father.

"What truth?"

Her father's expression changed.

For the first time, he looked afraid.

Jasmine knew.

There was something else.

Something bigger.

"Tell me."

He remained silent.

"Tell me what happened that night."

Finally, he spoke.

"Amelia's mother discovered everything."

Jasmine's stomach twisted.

"She knew about the money. The people. The deals."

He paused.

"She was going to expose me."

Amelia stepped forward.

"And you killed her."

"Yes."

Amelia's face crumpled.

Jasmine grabbed her hand.

Her father continued.

"But that wasn't the worst part."

Luca's voice was cold.

"Don't."

Her father ignored him.

"Jasmine found out."

Jasmine remembered the knife.

The blood.

Amelia.

Her father.

Luca.

"You tried to make me kill Amelia."

"I needed you to believe you had."

Jasmine's breath caught.

"What?"

"I needed you afraid of yourself."

He looked at the notebook.

"So you would write."

Jasmine stared at him.

"You wanted me to write?"

"You were always a writer."

His smile faded.

"I knew you would create a world where none of this happened."

Jasmine's eyes burned.

"So I wrote Amelia."

"No."

He shook his head.

"You remembered Amelia."

Jasmine looked at her best friend.

"You were real."

Amelia nodded through her tears.

"I've always been real."

The truth hit Jasmine all at once.

Her father hadn't created the story.

He had manipulated it.

He had taken Jasmine's memories, buried the truth, and let her turn the pieces into fiction.

But one thing hadn't gone according to plan.

Luca.

Jasmine looked at him.

"You helped me escape."

"Yes."

"You let everyone think I was gone."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Luca's eyes softened.

"Because I loved you."

The room went silent.

Jasmine's heart broke open.

Thirteen years.

All those memories.

All those unanswered questions.

And somehow, through all of it—

Luca had never stopped looking for her.

Her father stepped forward.

"You see what happens when you trust people?"

Jasmine looked at him.

"No."

She wiped her tears.

"I see what happens when I stop trusting myself."

Her father raised the gun.

Luca moved.

Amelia screamed.

A gunshot echoed through the house.

Then silence.

Jasmine opened her eyes.

Luca was standing.

Her father was on the floor.

The gun had fallen beside him.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

Amelia grabbed Jasmine and pulled her into a hug.

For the first time in thirteen years, Jasmine cried without trying to understand why.

She cried for the girl she'd been.

For the memories she'd lost.

For Amelia.

For Luca.

For everything that had been stolen from them.

Hours later, the house was quiet.

Jasmine sat alone at her desk.

The black notebook lay open in front of her.

She turned to the final page.

For the first time, there was no strange message.

No warning.

No mystery.

Just a blank page.

Jasmine picked up her pen.

She stared at it.

Then wrote:

Chapter One.

She smiled through her tears.

For thirteen years, someone else had been writing her story.

Not anymore.

She closed the notebook.

Behind her, Luca appeared in the doorway.

"Ready?"

Jasmine looked at him.

"For what?"

"To finally leave this place."

She smiled.

"Yeah."

She took his hand.

And together, they walked out.

For the first time in thirteen years, Jasmine didn't look back.

But as she stepped outside, her phone buzzed.

She stopped.

Luca looked at her.

"What is it?"

Jasmine slowly pulled out her phone.

One new message.

Unknown number.

Her smile disappeared.

You really thought that was the ending?

A second message appeared.

Ask Amelia what happened on July 18.

Jasmine looked toward Amelia.

Amelia was standing across the yard.

Watching her.

And smiling.

Not crying.

Not afraid.

Smiling.

Jasmine's heart stopped.

Amelia slowly mouthed four words:

"I never told you."

The screen went black.

THE END... FOR NOW.

Thirteen years earlier...

The rain came down so hard that the windows of Bellamy's shook.

Jasmine stood beneath the awning, clutching the black notebook against her chest.

She was fourteen.

Young enough to believe adults always knew what they were doing.

Old enough to know when someone was lying.

Amelia stood beside her.

Her pink hoodie was soaked through.

"Jasmine," she whispered. "We shouldn't be here."

Jasmine looked toward the café.

"Why?"

"Because your father told us never to come back."

Jasmine frowned.

"That's exactly why we have to."

Amelia grabbed her arm.

"No."

Jasmine looked at her.

"You said you wanted to know the truth."

"I changed my mind."

"You can't."

"Why?"

Amelia's eyes filled with tears.

"Because I found something."

Jasmine's stomach tightened.

"What?"

Amelia reached into her pocket.

She pulled out a photograph.

Jasmine took it.

Her heart stopped.

It showed the four of them.

Jasmine.

Amelia.

Luca.

Daniel.

Standing outside Bellamy's.

But that wasn't what frightened her.

Someone had written across the photograph:

ONE OF THEM WILL NOT LEAVE.

Jasmine looked at Amelia.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

Amelia shook her head.

"I'm scared."

Jasmine softened.

"Of what?"

Amelia looked toward the café.

"Of what's underneath it."

A low rumble of thunder shook the street.

Jasmine looked through the window.

The café was empty.

Except for one person.

Her father.

Daniel stood behind the counter.

Watching them.

Jasmine's blood ran cold.

"He's here."

Amelia grabbed her hand.

"Run."

But it was too late.

The café door opened.

Daniel stepped outside.

His expression was calm.

Too calm.

"Jasmine."

She swallowed.

"Dad."

He looked at Amelia.

Then at the notebook.

"You shouldn't have found that."

Jasmine held the notebook tighter.

"What is it?"

Daniel walked toward her.

"The beginning."

"The beginning of what?"

He looked at the café.

"Everything."

Amelia stepped in front of Jasmine.

"Leave her alone."

Daniel's eyes hardened.

"This isn't your decision."

"It is now."

Jasmine looked between them.

"What are you two talking about?"

Neither answered.

Then Luca appeared from around the side of the café.

He was seventeen.

Soaked from the rain.

Breathing hard.

"Jasmine."

She looked at him.

"You came."

"I told you not to come here."

"You knew about this?"

Luca looked at Daniel.

Then Amelia.

Then Jasmine.

"I know enough."

Jasmine's frustration exploded.

"Everybody knows something except me!"

She threw the notebook onto the ground.

"I want the truth!"

The notebook hit the pavement.

It opened.

The pages fluttered in the wind.

Then stopped.

One sentence appeared.

JASMINE ROSE WILL DIE TONIGHT.

Jasmine stared at it.

Nobody moved.

Luca stepped forward.

"No."

Daniel closed his eyes.

Amelia began crying.

Jasmine looked at the page.

Then laughed nervously.

"That's ridiculous."

Another sentence appeared.

UNLESS SOMEONE ELSE TAKES HER PLACE.

Jasmine looked at Luca.

"What does that mean?"

He didn't answer.

She looked at Amelia.

"What does it mean?"

Amelia whispered:

"It means the story needs a sacrifice."

Jasmine's smile disappeared.

"No."

Daniel walked toward the notebook.

"Give it to me."

Jasmine stepped back.

"No."

"Jasmine."

"You wrote this."

Daniel stopped.

"What?"

"You wrote this story."

His face changed.

"I told you never to open that notebook."

"You wrote my death."

"I wrote an ending."

"You wrote mine."

"I was trying to protect you."

"By killing me?"

Daniel's voice broke.

"You don't understand what happens if the story doesn't get its ending."

Jasmine looked at the café.

"Then we'll write a different one."

Daniel shook his head.

"You can't."

Jasmine picked up the notebook.

"Watch me."

She turned to the final page.

Her hands trembled.

Then she wrote:

JASMINE WILL SURVIVE.

The page went black.

The café lights flickered.

A deep sound echoed from beneath the floor.

Something had awakened.

Amelia screamed.

"Jasmine, stop!"

The ground shook.

Luca grabbed Jasmine's hand.

"Put the notebook down!"

"I can't!"

The ink began moving across the page.

A new sentence appeared beneath hers.

THEN SOMEONE ELSE WILL DIE.

Jasmine looked at Luca.

Then Amelia.

Then her father.

Her heart broke.

"No."

She understood.

The story wasn't asking for a person.

It was asking for a choice.

Jasmine looked at Luca.

He shook his head.

"Don't."

She smiled through her tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Jasmine."

She squeezed his hand.

"You were always supposed to survive."

Luca's eyes filled with tears.

"What are you talking about?"

She looked at the notebook.

Then wrote one final sentence.

IF SOMEONE HAS TO DIE, LET IT BE ME.

The pages erupted with light.

Amelia screamed her name.

Luca grabbed her.

Daniel shouted something Jasmine couldn't hear.

And then—

everything disappeared.

The last thing Jasmine saw was Luca.

The last thing she heard was Amelia screaming.

And the last thing she thought was:

At least they get to stay.

⸻

Present Day

Amelia stood across the yard.

Her smile slowly disappeared.

Jasmine stared at her.

"What happened on July 18?"

Amelia didn't answer.

Luca stepped closer.

"Jasmine..."

She held up her hand.

"No."

Her eyes never left Amelia.

"You said you never told me."

Amelia's eyes filled with tears.

"I didn't."

"Then tell me now."

Amelia looked toward the sky.

The rain had started again.

Exactly like it had thirteen years ago.

"On July 18," she whispered, "you didn't die."

Jasmine's heart stopped.

Amelia looked at her.

"You disappeared."

"Where?"

Amelia swallowed.

"Into the story."

Jasmine felt the blood drain from her face.

"And I went after you."

Luca's expression changed.

"You weren't supposed to."

Amelia nodded.

"But I did."

Jasmine stared at her.

"What did you find?"

Amelia stepped closer.

"The original ending."

"And?"

She looked directly into Jasmine's eyes.

"It wasn't written by your father."

Jasmine froze.

"Then who wrote it?"

Amelia's voice dropped to a whisper.

"You did."

Silence.

Jasmine shook her head.

"No."

Amelia nodded.

"Yes."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.

She handed it to Jasmine.

Jasmine unfolded it.

Her handwriting.

From thirteen years ago.

One sentence.

If I ever come back, don't let me finish the story.

Jasmine looked up.

Amelia was crying.

"Why?"

Amelia whispered:

"Because you weren't writing an ending, Jasmine."

She looked toward Bellamy's.

"You were writing a way back."

Jasmine's phone buzzed.

She looked down.

One new message.

Unknown Number.

YOU REMEMBERED JULY 18.

Another message appeared.

NOW REMEMBER JULY 19.

Jasmine's heart stopped.

Then the final message appeared.

THAT'S THE DAY YOU CAME BACK.

The screen went black.

Jasmine looked at Luca.

Then Amelia.

Neither of them spoke.

Because suddenly, Jasmine understood.

July 18 wasn't the day her story ended.

It was the day it began.

And July 19 was the day something came back with her.