Parallel Hearts 💖

IN THE WALLS OF THE CAMPUS . The wind was soft that evening, brushing through the trees like a secret. Cassie sat on the old wooden bench by the river, hugging her knees to her chest. Lao arrived moments later, her dark braid swinging behind her, and sat down gently beside her. “You sounded serious on the phone,” Lao said, brushing some hair from her face. “What’s going on?” Cassie didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were fixed on the water, where the golden light of sunset scattered across the surface like a shattered mirror. Finally, she spoke. “It’s about Nicholas.” Lao tilted her head. “Nicholas… the guy from your history class?” Cassie nodded slowly. “Yeah. Him.” Lao said nothing, giving her the quiet she needed. “I don’t even know how to explain it,” Cassie began, her voice quieter than usual. “He’s… different. Not just in the way he talks or how he always sits in the back and sketches during lectures. There’s something about him that feels… familiar. But I barely know him.” “Familiar how?” Lao asked gently. Cassie hesitated. “It’s like… I’ve met him before, even though I haven’t. He remembers things I’ve never told him. Like the scar on my wrist from when I fell off my bike in third grade—he noticed it and asked if it still hurt. I never told anyone that story, not even you.” Lao’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? You never told me about that.” “I’m serious.” She tugged her sleeve down a little. “And today, he said something else. Something that really freaked me out.” “What did he say?” Lao leaned in slightly. Cassie turned to look her friend in the eyes. “He said, ‘I told you I’d find you again, Cassie. Even if it took lifetimes.’” Lao’s breath caught. “Wait… what?” Cassie nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know it sounds crazy. But when he said it… it didn’t feel like a lie. It felt like a memory.” The river flowed on, calm and endless. Lao reached for Cassie’s hand. “That’s... kind of beautiful. And also kind of terrifying.” “I know,” Cassie said. “Part of me wants to run away. But the other part... wants to know who Nicholas really is. And why I feel like I’ve known him forever. The days that followed were filled with quiet tension. Cassie couldn’t focus in class. Every time Nicholas walked into the room, her heart would skip like it remembered something her mind didn’t. Lao noticed. They sat under a tree near the university library, books open, but Cassie wasn’t reading. She was staring off again. “You talked to him yet?” Lao asked, popping a grape into her mouth. Cassie shook her head. “What would I even say? ‘Hey Nicholas, do you believe in reincarnation because I think I might’ve loved you in another life’?” Lao smirked. “Honestly? That would be kind of iconic.” Cassie rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. Later that week, the opportunity came. Nicholas was sketching in the campus courtyard, sitting alone on a stone ledge, his pencil dancing across the page. Cassie stood watching him for a few seconds before working up the courage to speak. “You always draw?” she asked, approaching slowly. Nicholas looked up, as if he’d been expecting her. “Only when I’m trying to remember something.” “Remember what?” His eyes—calm, but somehow full of longing—met hers. “You.” Cassie’s breath caught. He gently turned the sketchpad toward her. It was a portrait—of her. But not exactly. The clothing was different, old-fashioned. Her hair was styled differently. But the face was unmistakable. “I keep drawing you,” he said. “In different places. Different times. I don’t know why. Until I saw you in class and realized…” Cassie sat down beside him, heart thudding. “Tell me something real,” she whispered. “Not just a line from some fantasy.” Nicholas hesitated. Then, very quietly, he said, “You used to sit under cherry blossoms and read poetry to me. In Kyoto. I don’t know how I know that. But I do.” Cassie felt a strange warmth rush through her, a tear slipping from her eye before she could stop it. “I dream about cherry blossoms sometimes,” she said. “I never knew why.” There was silence between them, but not awkward. Soft. Safe. Nicholas reached for her hand, slowly, like he was afraid she’d disappear. Cassie didn’t pull away. Lao watched from a distance, leaning against the library wall with a small smile on her lips. Later that night, Cassie texted her: I think I believe him. Or maybe I just want to. Either way, I think I’m falling for him. Lao: About time. Just don’t forget who helped you get here, reincarnation girl The next week felt like something out of a dream for Cassie. She and Nicholas spent more time together—walking after class, sitting under trees, sharing quiet moments that didn’t need words. It wasn’t official, not yet, but something was blooming. Something real. Lao noticed the change in her friend and smiled every time Cassie spoke about him. “I haven’t seen you this light in a long time,” Lao said one morning. “Just don’t float away on me, dream girl.” But then everything changed. It was a Friday afternoon. The sun was bright, the quad buzzing with students. Lao had pulled Cassie out for coffee and a walk to clear her head before midterms. They were cutting across campus when Lao suddenly slowed her steps. “Cassie…” she said cautiously. Cassie followed her friend’s gaze—and froze. Across the green, near the art building, Nicholas stood talking with someone. A girl. She was tall, elegant, and familiar in a way that unsettled Cassie. Her name was Ava. And Nicholas was smiling at her—that smile. The one he gave Cassie when they sat by the river. Cassie stared. Ava touched his arm. He didn’t pull away. Then she laughed, and Nicholas laughed too. Close. Comfortable. It felt like a punch to the chest. Lao glanced at Cassie. “Hey… maybe it’s not what it looks like.” But Cassie was already backing away. “I… I need to go.” “Cass.” “I just—can’t be here right now.” Cassie turned and walked quickly, her heart thudding too loud to hear anything else. Later that night, she sat curled on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Lao sat cross-legged beside her, silent at first, letting Cassie process. Finally, Cassie whispered, “Maybe he has known me before. But maybe… Ava was part of that past too.” Lao didn’t try to argue. Instead, she said, “Then you deserve to know where you stand in this life. Not some dream or memory. The present is what matters.” Cassie nodded slowly, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I need to ask him. I need to hear the truth from him.” “Do you want me to come with you?” “No,” Cassie said, her voice steadier now. “I have to do this alone.” The next afternoon, Cassie found him right where she hoped he’d be—sketching on the old stone ledge behind the art building. The sun filtered through the trees, and for a moment, he looked peaceful, lost in his own world. But Cassie wasn’t here for peace. Nicholas looked up and smiled when he saw her. “Cassie—” “Who’s Ava?” she asked, her voice cutting straight through the air between them. Nicholas blinked. “Ava?” “Don’t play dumb,” she said, folding her arms. “I saw you with her yesterday. Laughing. Smiling. She touched your arm.” His smile faded. “You were there.” “Yes. And I want to know who she is. Because I’ve been walking around thinking… thinking you and I were building something real. That I mattered. But then I see you with her, and suddenly, I’m not so sure.” Nicholas set his sketchpad down, slowly standing up. He looked genuinely shaken. “Ava is... someone I used to be close with,” he said carefully. “We dated. Last year. She was the one I kept dreaming about before I met you. I thought she was the one I had known before.” Cassie stared. “So what changed?” “You did,” he said quietly. “When I met you, everything shifted. It wasn’t just a feeling—it was clarity. You brought back memories Ava never could. I realized I’d been trying to fit the past into someone it didn’t belong to.” Cassie’s heart twisted. “And what was yesterday?” “She came to see me. Said she’d been dreaming about me again. She wanted to know if I still… felt something. I told her no.” “Then why did you look so comfortable?” “Because I was trying to be kind,” he said, stepping closer. “Because I didn’t want to hurt her. But maybe that was a mistake. Because now I might’ve hurt the only person who really matters.” Cassie didn’t say anything for a moment. Her hands were trembling, but she didn’t look away. “I need to trust what’s real, Nicholas. Not what might’ve happened in a past life. Not dreams. Now.” “Then let me show you,” he said, reaching out, his voice low and vulnerable. “No more half-truths. No more ghosts.” Cassie stared at his hand, her heart in a storm. And then—slowly—she took it. “Okay,” she whispered. “But I swear, if I catch you near Ava again—” Cassie rolled her eyes. “Dramatic.” And for the first time in days, Cassie felt something steady. Something real. The days that followed felt different—not like a fantasy, but something warmer. Grounded. Real. Cassie and Nicholas didn’t rush into anything official, but the way he held her hand as they walked through campus… the way he waited outside her lecture hall just to walk her home… it said everything. One evening, just after the rain had cleared, Nicholas texted her: Meet me at the river bench? She smiled, grabbed her jacket, and slipped out before Lao could tease her again. The bench was damp, but Nicholas had brought a blanket. He spread it out and sat cross-legged, sketchbook in his lap. “You’ve been drawing again,” Cassie said, settling beside him. “Only one thing,” he said, handing her the book. Cassie flipped through the pages—different versions of her. Some realistic. Some dreamlike. One with cherry blossoms in her hair. One standing by a lighthouse. One… dancing barefoot under a full moon. “Do you think all of these are past lives?” she asked softly. “I think,” Nicholas said, “they’re all pieces of how I see you now. Something beautiful. Something I don’t want to lose again.” Cassie felt her cheeks burn. “You’re ridiculous.” “Only a little.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. For a long time, they sat in silence, listening to the soft hush of the river flowing beside them. “Do you ever get scared?” Cassie asked. Nicholas turned to her. “Of what?” “Of how fast this is happening. Of… how strong it feels. Like we’re picking up from somewhere we left off.” “I do,” he admitted. “But then I look at you, and it’s not fear I feel. It’s peace.” Cassie looked up at him. “You’re good with words.” “I’m better with actions.” And then he kissed her. Soft. Unrushed. Like he was learning her all over again. Cassie’s heart beat like rain on glass. When he pulled away, she didn’t speak—just rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes. “Maybe we’ve had a hundred lives before this,” she whispered. “But I think this one might be my favorite.” Nicholas smiled. “It’s mine too.” And for the first time in a long time, Cassie didn’t feel like she was searching anymore. She felt found. While Cassie was falling into something soft and real with Nicholas, Lao stayed in the background—watching, protecting, and smiling through it all. She’d been Cassie’s anchor for years, her steady voice in the chaos. But lately, Lao felt… something missing. It wasn’t jealousy. She was happy for her friend. But it made her realize how much she had been pouring into others without asking herself what she wanted. So one afternoon, she sat alone at her favorite coffee shop, a book open but unread. Her mind wandered. That’s when she heard the voice. “You always sit in that spot.” She looked up. A guy stood in front of her, wearing an old film club hoodie and round glasses. He looked vaguely familiar. “I’m sorry?” she asked, eyebrows raised. He smiled, sheepish. “We had Film Theory together last semester. You always argued with Professor McNealy and somehow won.” “Yeah, he hated me for that.” “I’m Owen,” he said, offering his hand. “I remember you. You had something to say every time. I liked that.” Lao shook his hand cautiously. “I’d remember if I’d seen you before.” “That’s fair,” he laughed. “I mostly kept to myself. Sat two rows behind. But I was listening.” She studied him for a moment. “So what, you’ve been quietly stalking me through film debates?” “No,” he said, holding up his hands. “Just… noticed you. And when I saw you here, I figured it was now or never.” Lao narrowed her eyes. “Are you flirting with me right now?” He shrugged. “Is it working?” She laughed despite herself. “Barely.” “Guess I’ll have to keep trying, then.” He gestured to the empty seat across from her. She raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Fine. But no weird trivia facts about directors unless I ask.” “No promises,” he grinned. They talked. For an hour. Then two. Movies turned into music, then into family, then into late-night thoughts and childhood dreams. Lao hadn’t laughed this much in months. Later, walking back to her apartment, she found Cassie on the couch with a blanket and Nicholas' hoodie draped across her shoulders. Cassie looked up. “You’re smiling.” Lao tried to act casual. “I’m always smiling.” Cassie narrowed her eyes. “Girl. What happened?” Lao dropped onto the couch beside her, still a little dazed. “I think… I met someone interesting.” Cassie lit up. “Tell me everything.” And just like that, the balance shifted—Cassie’s story becoming one of many, as Lao’s own chapter quietly began to unfold. The summer air had softened, and campus was starting to thin out with students heading home for break. But for Cassie and Nicholas, things were just beginning. One evening, they escaped the city noise and took a train to a quiet coastal town. Nicholas had found a little art gallery nestled near the cliffs, and he wanted to show her a painting that reminded him of her. It was small and unassuming—just a woman, alone, standing at the edge of the sea. But the wind in her hair, the longing in her eyes, it stirred something in Cassie. “It’s like she’s waiting for someone,” Cassie whispered. Nicholas looked at her. “Or remembering someone she already found.” She turned to him. “Is that us? Are we remembering each other… or just trying to be something new?” He gently took her hand. “Does it matter? I don’t want to live in the past. I want to write this version of us.” Cassie smiled, pulling him into a kiss right there in the gallery, in front of that painting and the quiet sea beyond it. Meanwhile, Lao was discovering that Owen wasn’t just charming—he was thoughtful. He didn’t just listen—he heard her. They spent late nights watching old movies in her apartment, debating over endings and symbolism. Lao found herself telling him things she’d kept locked away—about her dad leaving when she was ten, about never really trusting someone enough to let them in. Owen didn’t try to fix her. He didn’t offer empty lines. He just sat with her in the silence. That was new. One night, as a storm rumbled softly in the distance, Owen looked at her and said, “I think you hide behind your strength.” Lao flinched a little. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I think you’ve spent so long holding everyone else up,” he said gently, “you forgot you’re allowed to be held too.” Later, as she watched him fall asleep during their fourth movie in a row, Lao leaned her head against the couch and whispered, “Maybe I’m ready to stop pretending I’m unbreakable.” The next morning, Cassie and Lao sat together at their favorite coffee shop, a moment of peace between their tangled lives. Cassie stirred her drink. “Funny, isn’t it? We were both so focused on everything else. And now here we are—accidentally in something beautiful.” Lao smirked. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Mine’s more like ‘potentially beautiful, probably messy, and might involve popcorn fights.’” “But it feels good, right?” Lao nodded. “It feels… honest.” They clinked their mugs. Two best friends. Two stories. One summer. Cassie had never opened up about her mom. She’d danced around it with Nicholas, dropped hints about childhood and silence, but she’d never said the full truth. Until one night, she found him in his studio apartment, working on a new painting. It was of her again—but this time, her eyes looked haunted. Cassie stared at it. “Where did you get that expression?” Nicholas turned to her, puzzled. “I… I didn’t plan it. It just came out.” Her voice was sharp. “No, you felt it. Why?” Nicholas stepped closer. “Cass, is something wrong?” She swallowed. “My mom called today.” He blinked. “You never talk about her.” “That’s because she walked out when I was eleven. No goodbye, no warning. Just left a note and a coffee mug still warm on the counter.” Nicholas froze. Cassie looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Do you know what she said today? That she missed me. That she wanted to talk. As if she didn’t leave a crater in my life.” Nicholas reached out. “Cassie, I’m so sorry—” “And then she asked about you,” she cut in. “Said she found a painting online. Your painting. From that gallery. And she recognized me.” Nicholas looked stunned. “I didn’t tell her about you,” Cassie said. “But she somehow… she knew. She said, ‘That’s the boy I dream about, too.’” Nicholas’s face went pale. Cassie stepped back. “You told me this was about us. That we were building something new. So tell me, Nicholas… how deep does this go? Is this even our story anymore? Or are we just echoing someone else's past again?” Nicholas was silent. That same night, Lao and Owen met up for a small film society reunion. She felt good—light, almost excited to show him off a little. But halfway through the night, while Owen was chatting across the room, an old friend leaned in beside her. “You and Owen, huh?” she said casually. Lao nodded, sipping her drink. “He’s changed a lot,” the girl said. “Back in first year, he was obsessed with that actress—what’s her name—Elena something. Looked just like you.” Lao frowned. “What do you mean?” “Oh, he had this whole weird fixation. Said he had a ‘dream’ about her. Drew her face in his film notes. Creepy, honestly. He said it was fate.” Lao laughed it off at first. But something about it gnawed at her. Later, in Owen’s car, she finally asked. “Did you used to be obsessed with an actress who looks like me?” Owen blinked. “What?” “Someone said you had a thing for a girl you dreamed about—who looked exactly like me. Is that true?” Owen’s face went still. Lao folded her arms. “Tell me the truth, Owen. I don’t do fate. I don’t do being someone’s weird unfinished fantasy.” He hesitated. “Yes. I had a dream. Years ago. A girl standing under a streetlight, telling me to find her. And yeah… she looked like you.” “Jesus,” Lao said, shaking her head. “So what am I to you? “No,” he said quickly. “Not anymore. That dream led me to you, but what’s real now—you, your sarcasm, your fire—that’s what I care about.” But she didn’t respond. The silence in the car was louder than thunder. Later that night, both girls found each other on the river bench again. Wordless. Heavy. Cassie leaned into Lao’s shoulder. “I don’t know if I’m in love with Nicholas or a memory that never belonged to me.” Lao exhaled. “I don’t know if Owen really sees me, or just the version of me that fits his dream.” The river rolled on beside them. Not all love stories are easy. Some are tested by ghosts, by fate, by people who dream before they understand what reality asks of them. Nicholas waited outside Cassie’s apartment for over an hour, sketchbook on his lap, the edges frayed from how tightly he gripped it. He knew she hadn’t blocked his number—just ignored the calls. When the door finally opened, she looked tired. Pale. Like she hadn’t slept. Her eyes were red from crying, her lips pressed in a thin line. “What do you want, Nicholas?” “I want to explain.” Cassie shook her head. “You already did. It’s fate. It’s dreams. It's my mother, of all people, telling me you were in her dreams too.” Her voice cracked. “How is this love if everyone’s already written the story for us?” Nicholas stepped forward. “It’s not about the dreams, Cassie. Not anymore.” “Then why did you paint me before you knew me? Why does everything feel like we’re just… reenacting something?” He handed her the sketchbook. Inside was a new drawing—not of her past self. Not romanticized. Not mystical. It was Cassie now. Sitting at the river bench. Hoodie half-zipped. Eyebrows furrowed. A coffee cup beside her. Her real self. Underneath, in his shaky handwriting, he’d written: This is the Cassie I love. Not the one I dreamed. Not the one I thought I remembered. Just you. She clutched the book to her chest. Her lips trembled. “I wanted it to be different,” she whispered. “I wanted to know you loved me for this life.” “I do,” he said. “I promise. I love this version. The one who’s hurting. The one who’s stubborn. The one who’s honest.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “You really mean that?” Nicholas stepped closer. “I swear.” She collapsed into his arms, crying into his shoulder, her grip tight like she was afraid he'd vanish if she let go. He held her like the world was burning and she was the only thing that mattered. “I forgive you,” she whispered through tears. And when she looked up at him, eyes glassy and raw, he kissed her like it was the first time all over again—except now it meant something deeper. Lao hadn’t planned to open the door when she saw Owen standing there in the rain, hair soaked, hoodie clinging to him like regret. But she did. He looked like hell. “I couldn’t sleep.” “You look like it.” Owen stepped inside, dripping. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. That dream—yeah, it led me to you. But you’re not some symbol. You’re not a ghost. You’re you, Lao. Blunt. Brilliant. Tough as hell.” She crossed her arms. “And still wondering if I’m enough without the mystery.” “You are the mystery,” he said. “Not because of some dream. Because you show me something new every day. You challenge me. You scare me in the best way.” Her breath hitched. He stepped closer. “I don’t need a dream. I need you. The real you. The one who watches horror films with a pillow just in case, and pretends not to cry at the sad parts.” “I don’t cry at the sad parts.” “You do,” he said, grinning through the rainwater on his face. “I love that about you.” Lao’s face crumpled. She turned away, wiping her eyes—but her shoulders shook. “Damn it, Owen…” He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her slowly, waiting to be pushed away. But she leaned into him. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “I am too,” he said. “But maybe that means it matters.” She turned in his arms, looked up at him, soaked and stupid and sincere. “Don’t make me regret this,” she said. “Never,” he said, before kissing her—slow, soaked, and soft. Not a fairytale. Something better. Something real. Later That Night Cassie and Lao sat on the floor of their apartment in sweatpants, tissues between them, puffy eyes and warm hearts. “Well,” Lao said, sniffling. “We’re both emotionally ruined but also kissed senseless. So… progress?” Cassie laughed through a tear. “Progress.” They clinked their mugs of lukewarm tea like champagne. The river kept flowing outside, as always. But inside, everything had changed. Cassie was doing better. They were doing better. Since that night—the crying, the apology, the kiss—things had found a new rhythm. Nicholas stopped painting versions of the past. Cassie stopped doubting the present. They met for early breakfasts, studied on campus lawns, and walked the river path hand in hand. But peace has a way of inviting chaos. It happened one quiet morning in the café near campus. Cassie had just picked up her coffee when she saw her. Ava. Standing at the corner table, sipping an iced drink like she owned the place. And beside her—Nicholas. Cassie’s heart dropped. Ava noticed her first, smiling like a challenge. “Cassie! So good to see you.” Nicholas turned, startled. “Cassie—this isn’t what it looks like.” Cassie folded her arms. “Then what is it?” Ava stepped forward, all sugar-coated poison. “I just wanted to catch up with an old friend. You know, talk about the past. You’re not still sensitive about that, are you?” Cassie stayed silent. Nicholas looked like he’d been caught in a trap. “She showed up out of nowhere. Said it was important. I didn’t want to be rude—” “You didn’t want to say no,” Cassie said sharply. Ava leaned in. “He’s always had trouble with that. He once told me he still dreamed about me, you know.” Cassie’s throat tightened. “Is that true?” Nicholas stepped forward, his voice low. “Yes. But those dreams don’t mean anything anymore. You do.” Cassie looked at him. “Then why are you still letting her in? Why are you giving her space in your life—in your time with me?” Ava shrugged. “Maybe because he’s not as sure as he acts.” Nicholas turned to Ava, something breaking in his eyes. “Ava. Leave. Now.” She laughed, mockingly. “Fine. But don’t come crawling back when the dream fades.” She walked out, long legs and heavy silence trailing behind her. Cassie stood frozen. “I’m sorry,” Nicholas said softly. “I didn’t want to hurt you again.” Cassie looked down at her coffee cup, hands trembling. “She got to you once. I thought maybe she couldn’t anymore.” “She didn’t,” he said. “Not really. But I let her talk. And that was enough.” She met his eyes, voice barely above a whisper. “Please don’t make me regret forgiving you.” “You won’t,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re not a placeholder. You’re everything. I just… I didn’t protect us the way I should have.” She closed her eyes. “I need time. Just a little.” Nicholas agreed and he left there. --- TO BE CONTINUED 👇 IF YOU LIKED THIS STORY PLEASE HELP ME AND PAY FOR THIS STORY AUTHOR NAME: ATRIUM KASSY.