THE ONE FROM THE PAST

CHAPTER - 9 (ALYANNAH?)

Callisto's POV ...

Chapter 9

Callisto

The vibration of my phone pulls me out of my thoughts. I blink, momentarily disoriented, before glancing at the screen.

Silas.

It takes me a second to process his name. It’s been a while since we last talked—months, maybe. Long enough that I have to wonder why he’s calling me now.

I consider ignoring it. I’m not in the mood for conversation, not when my mind is tangled up in the past. But something in me hesitates. Maybe it’s the suffocating silence of my apartment, or the fact that I know exactly where my thoughts will go if I stay here alone.

With a sigh, I swipe to answer.

“Silas.” My voice comes out rougher than I intended.

“Well, damn,” he says, a teasing lilt in his tone. “You actually picked up. I was starting to think you moved to another dimension or something.”

I rub a hand down my face. “Not in the mood for jokes.”

“Yeah, I figured. That’s why I’m calling.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

There’s a pause, then a sigh from the other end. “You’ve been MIA for too long, man. You barely answer texts, you never show up to anything anymore. It’s like you’re a ghost.”

I lean back against the counter, staring at the dim glow of the city outside my window. “I’ve been busy.”

“Bullshit.” Silas snorts. “I know you, Callisto. And I know what this is about.”

My grip tightens around the phone.

“Look,” he continues, his voice softer now, “I’m not here to lecture you. I just think you need a break from… whatever the hell is going on in your head.”

I don’t respond. I don’t have to. He already knows.

“Come out with me tonight,” Silas says after a beat. “Nothing crazy. Just drinks, maybe some good music. Let yourself breathe for once.”

I almost say no. The automatic response is there, sitting on the tip of my tongue. But then I think about the last five years. The isolation. The weight of regret pressing into my chest every damn day.

And maybe—just maybe—I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts tonight.

“Where?” I ask.

Silas laughs, a hint of victory in his voice. “That’s more like it. I’ll text you the address. Be there in an hour.”

Then the call ends, and I’m left staring at my reflection in the darkened window.

I barely recognize the man looking back at me.

---

The bar Silas picked is one I haven’t been to in years. It’s got that sleek, modern feel—low lighting, deep red booths, a polished wooden bar stocked with expensive liquor. The kind of place that attracts people who want to forget, at least for a little while.

I step inside, scanning the room. Silas is easy to spot, leaning against the bar with a drink already in hand. He grins when he sees me.

“Look who actually showed up.” He claps a hand on my shoulder, pulling me into a brief half-hug. “I was starting to think I’d have to drag you out myself.”

I shake my head, taking the seat beside him. “Don’t push your luck.”

He gestures to the bartender. “Whiskey?”

I nod, and a glass is placed in front of me within seconds. I take a slow sip, the burn sliding down my throat, grounding me.

“So,” Silas says, watching me carefully. “How are you really doing?”

I let out a dry chuckle. “Is this supposed to be a therapy session?”

“Call it whatever you want.” He leans back, swirling the liquid in his glass. “But you don’t look great, man.”

I don’t respond.

“You’re still thinking about her, aren’t you?”

The question hangs between us, heavy and unshakable.

I exhale sharply, setting my glass down with a quiet thud. “It’s been five years.”

“And?”

I shake my head. “And it still feels like yesterday.”

Silas studies me for a moment, then sighs. “You really loved her.”

I glance down at my drink, the amber liquid catching the dim light. “Yeah.”

Silas is silent for a while, letting the noise of the bar fill the space between us. Then he says, “Have you ever thought about trying to find her again?”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “You think I haven’t tried?”

His brow furrows. “No leads?”

“None.” I shake my head. “She cut ties with everyone we knew. Moved away, probably changed her number. It’s like she didn’t want to be found.”

And I don’t blame her.

If I were her, I wouldn’t want to be found either.

Silas sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “That’s rough, man.”

I nod, taking another slow sip of my drink. “Yeah.”

For a while, we just sit there, letting the alcohol and the music settle in. It’s strange, being out like this again. I used to enjoy nights like these—good company, a few drinks, the steady hum of conversation around me. But now, it just feels like a distraction. A temporary escape from the one thing I can’t run from.

My own damn mistakes.

Then, out of nowhere, Silas says, “You know, sometimes life has a way of bringing people back together when you least expect it.”

I scoff. “Sounds like wishful thinking.”

“Maybe,” he admits. “But you never know.”

I shake my head, finishing off the last of my whiskey. I don’t believe in fate. Not anymore. If fate were real, Alyannah wouldn’t have left. If fate were real, I wouldn’t be sitting here, drowning in regret.

But as I set my empty glass down, a strange feeling creeps up my spine. A feeling I can’t quite place.

And when I turn my head slightly, scanning the room out of habit—

My breath catches in my throat.

Because there, across the bar, standing in the dim glow of the lights—

Is her.

Alyannah.

Five years later.

And just like that, the past crashes into the present.