Rewritten Fates

Chapter 6

"Layla's POV"

She stared at the watch, the seconds ticking by in silence, until a chilling thought struck her. "I’m probably dead," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear. Panic surged through her veins as she thought of her mother. "Oh my God... what would Mom do without me?" She imagined her mother’s grief, her heart breaking all over again. But another thought pushed forward—Rowan. If she was dead, then perhaps she was here to accompany him to the afterlife. There was no other explanation.

Dragging herself back to her high school, Layla’s mind raced with the implications of her new reality. She was dead, and Rowan was a ghost, too—both trapped in this strange limbo together. What else could it be? After school, she avoided Natania, who had been pestering her with questions about why she was acting so weird. Layla couldn’t risk telling her friend the truth; it was too bizarre.

Instead, she made her way back to Rowan’s school, arriving just in time to see him waving down a taxi. Her heart leaped in her chest, and she hurried towards him, shouting, "Rowan, wait! Don’t get in that taxi!"

But Rowan barely spared her a glance. He practically ran into the taxi, slamming the door shut behind him, his eyes wide with alarm. Layla’s words did nothing to stop him, and the taxi peeled away from the curb, speeding off down the street.

Layla huffed, watching the taillights disappear around the corner. She whispered to herself, "He’s a ghost like me… why is he running?" Before the taxi was out of sight, she shouted after it, "Don’t worry! I’ll stick with you always!"

Inside the taxi, Rowan’s heart pounded in his chest as he glanced back at Layla through the rearview mirror. "Driver, please, faster," he muttered, his voice tinged with anxiety. The driver merely nodded, oblivious to the bizarre encounter.

Layla, however, was undeterred. She pumped her fist with resolve, her determination unwavering. "Don’t worry, Rowan! I’ll keep you company in this afterlife! No more bad thoughts for you."

When Layla finally got home, she found her mother waiting for her, an angry look in her eyes. “Layla, where have you been? You skipped classes again!” her mother scolded, her voice sharp with frustration.

But Layla was too overjoyed to care about the reprimand. She threw her arms around her mother, hugging her tightly. Her mother, caught off guard, continued to shout, smacking Layla lightly as she struggled to understand her daughter’s sudden display of affection.

“What’s gotten into you?” her mother demanded, but Layla only hugged her tighter.

“I’m just so happy to see you, Mom,” Layla said, her voice thick with emotion. She looked around and spotted her grandmother, who had come out to see what the commotion was about. Layla’s heart swelled at the sight of her grandmother, whole and healthy, unburdened by the dementia that would later steal her memories.

Layla ran to her, hugging her as well. “Grandma!” she cried, holding on as if she’d never let go. The older woman patted her back, confused but smiling.

Before her mother could continue scolding her, Layla dashed upstairs to her room, her heart light with joy. She shut the door behind her and collapsed onto her bed, feeling like she was floating on air. Everything was so perfect—so impossibly perfect.

**Later that week…**

The next few days were a whirlwind of confusion for Rowan. Layla seemed to appear everywhere he went, always with that strange, determined smile on her face. At first, he tried to avoid her, thinking she was just another crazed fan who had somehow learned where he lived. But she was persistent—too persistent.

Finally, one afternoon, as a sudden downpour began, Rowan found himself huddled under a narrow awning on a quiet street. He thought he was alone until Layla suddenly appeared beside him, out of breath but smiling triumphantly as though she’d just won a race.

"Rowan!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with relief. "I finally found you."

Rowan blinked, startled by her sudden appearance. He had to admit, there was something off about her, something that didn’t fit with the usual fan behavior. Tentatively, he asked, "So… about earlier… why do you keep saying you want to live with me?"

Layla looked at him, her eyes shining with sincerity. "Because I don’t want you to be alone, Rowan. We can keep each other company… you know, as ghosts."

Rowan’s eyes widened in shock, and he instinctively shuffled away from her, the distance between them growing as his anxiety mounted. He had no idea how to respond to that—was she serious? Did she really think they were… ghosts?

Seeing him retreat, Layla scooted closer, undeterred by his reaction. She was determined to stay by his side, no matter what.

Rowan, his panic rising, stammered, "Uh… maybe we should talk about this another time."

Layla grinned, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort. She wasn’t going anywhere, and Rowan could feel the weight of that realization pressing down on him.

As they stood together under the awning, the rain continued to pour down around them, creating a bubble of solitude in the bustling city. Layla’s relentless determination and Rowan’s growing curiosity about this strange girl created a push-pull tension that was both humorous and heartwarming—a dynamic that neither of them could escape from.