Chapter 5
1202 Words
I didn’t sleep.
Not even for a second.
The notebook lay open beside me on the bed, the pages slightly wrinkled from how many times I had gone over them.
Every word.
Every line.
Every mention of my name.
Emma.
Over and over again.
Like I had existed in his world long before he ever entered mine.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I whispered, pressing my hand against my chest.
But my heart didn’t argue.
It beat steadily.
Calmly.
Like it already knew the truth I was still trying to understand.
By morning, I had made a decision.
I needed to find someone who knew him.
Not a nurse.
Not a doctor.
Someone real.
Someone who could tell me who Liam was… not just how he died.
The name in the notebook helped.
It wasn’t obvious at first.
Just a few mentions, scattered across different pages.
Caleb said I’m overthinking it again.
Caleb doesn’t get it.
I told Caleb I’d handle it.
Caleb.
The only name that appeared more than once besides mine.
My pulse quickened.
“That’s where I start.”
It took longer than I expected.
Hours of searching. Guessing. Cross-checking.
Until finally—
I found something.
A social media account.
Private.
Minimal posts.
But the name matched.
Caleb Rhodes.
My fingers hovered over the screen.
“This could be nothing,” I murmured.
But something in my chest—
That pull again—
Said otherwise.
I didn’t think.
I just went.
The address wasn’t far.
A small apartment building on the edge of the city.
Nothing fancy.
Nothing memorable.
But the moment I stood in front of it—
My chest tightened.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
A faint, uneasy sense of familiarity settled in.
“I’ve never been here before,” I said quietly.
But my body didn’t agree.
I knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Silence.
Then—
Footsteps.
Slow.
Heavy.
The door opened.
And everything shifted.
He stood there, staring at me like I wasn’t supposed to exist.
Tall. Tired-looking. Dark circles under his eyes like sleep hadn’t touched him in days.
But it wasn’t his appearance that made my chest tighten.
It was his reaction.
The moment he saw me—
His expression changed.
Not confusion.
Not curiosity.
Something sharper.
Something darker.
Recognition.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
His voice was low.
Controlled.
But there was tension underneath it.
I swallowed.
“Are you Caleb?”
A pause.
Then—
“Who are you?” he asked instead.
I hesitated.
Then said it.
“My name is Emma.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
And then—
Something in his expression broke.
Not completely.
But enough.
Enough to confirm it.
He knew that name.
“No,” he said under his breath.
Like he was trying to deny something.
“This isn’t possible.”
My heart started racing.
“You know him,” I said quickly. “Liam. You knew him, didn’t you?”
His eyes snapped back to mine.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
“Who told you that?”
“No one—”
“Then how do you know his name?”
His voice was stronger now.
Not loud.
But intense.
And for the first time—
I felt it.
That edge.
That warning.
Like I had just stepped into something I didn’t understand.
“I…” I hesitated.
Then—
“I found his notebook.”
Everything stopped.
Completely.
Caleb’s jaw tightened.
“You what?”
“It was in his hospital room,” I said, my voice slightly unsteady now. “Room 214. I didn’t know at first but then I saw my name—”
“You went into that room?” he cut in sharply.
I flinched slightly.
“I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to—”
“You weren’t.”
The way he said it sent a chill down my spine.
Silence fell between us again.
But this time—
It wasn’t just heavy.
It was dangerous.
“You need to leave,” Caleb said suddenly.
“What?”
“Now.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
“There’s nothing going on.”
“That’s not true!” I snapped.
My heart pounded harder.
Faster.
“Why did he write about me?” I continued. “Why did he know my name? Why do I remember things I’ve never lived?!”
The words came out faster than I could control them.
Raw.
Desperate.
Real.
Caleb stared at me.
Long.
Hard.
Like he was trying to figure something out.
Or maybe—
Like he already had.
“You’re not supposed to remember,” he said quietly.
My breath caught.
“What?”
That was it.
That was the moment everything changed.
“What do you mean I’m not supposed to remember?” I asked, my voice barely steady.
He didn’t answer immediately.
And somehow—
That silence felt worse than anything he could have said.
“You need to stop,” he said finally.
“Stop what?”
“This,” he gestured slightly. “Looking. Asking questions.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t understand what you’re getting into.”
My chest tightened.
“Then explain it to me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
His jaw clenched.
“Because it’s already too late.”
A cold feeling settled deep in my chest.
Too late?
Too late for what?
“What happened to Liam?” I asked quietly.
This time—
He didn’t look away.
But something in his eyes shifted.
Something darker.
Something heavier.
“He made a choice,” Caleb said.
My heart skipped.
“What kind of choice?”
Silence.
Then—
“The kind you don’t come back from.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
My hands clenched slightly.
“No,” I said. “You’re hiding something.”
“I’m protecting you.”
“I didn’t ask for protection.”
“You don’t get to choose that.”
Something about that hit differently.
Not aggressive.
Not threatening.
But final.
“Why do you care?” I asked.
Another pause.
Then—
“Because he did.”
My breath caught.
“He wouldn’t have wanted this,” Caleb continued quietly. “He wouldn’t have wanted you digging into this.”
My chest tightened painfully.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I said.
His gaze sharpened slightly.
“No,” he said. “But he did.”
Silence fell again.
But this time—
It felt like something was closing in.
Like I had just crossed a line I didn’t see before.
“Go home, Emma,” Caleb said.
And this time—
It didn’t sound like a suggestion.
I didn’t move.
Not immediately.
Because my heart—
My heart was pounding in a way it hadn’t before.
Not from fear.
Not from confusion.
But from something deeper.
Something rising.
Something undeniable.
This wasn’t just about Liam anymore.
This wasn’t just about memories.
This was something bigger.
Something hidden.
Something dangerous.
And the worst part?
I had a feeling—
I was already in it.
- Writer
