THIRTY DAYS TO REMEMBER

004-DAY ONE

JORDAN

Olivia Carter?

Olivia. Carter.

Oh, Lord. Help me.

My heart wouldn’t stop racing. I could barely breathe. I walked out of that classroom like the walls were closing in on me.

My hands were shaking so badly I had to grip the railing just to steady myself. I sat down on the staircase, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes like that would stop the world from spinning.

She was alive.

She was alive.

I whispered it over and over until it didn’t sound real anymore.

The same dark hair. The same grey eyes. The same way she said hi—soft and careful like she was used to people leaning in when she spoke. That was her. My Olivia. The one I buried in my head, the one whose name I couldn’t say without breaking apart.

I ran my fingers through my hair and let out a shaky breath. “What the hell is going on?”

I pulled out my phone and dialed Mom. She always answered on the first ring, but this time it went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Once. Twice. Still nothing.

“Pick up, please,” I muttered, rubbing my face. “Mom, please pick up.”

Nothing.

I looked down the hallway, trying to make sense of the chaos in my chest. And then I heard it—her laugh. I froze instantly.

That sound.

It was light and musical, the same laugh that used to spill out when she’d sneak out of her father’s garden to meet me by the fence.

I turned my head just enough to see her walking down the hallway with that other girl, the talkative one from class. She had a coffee cup in her hand and this easy smile on her face, like she didn’t have a care in the world.

My chest tightened so hard I thought I might pass out.

I ducked behind the corner, hiding like some coward. My breathing came out in uneven bursts. I peeked again—just enough to see her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. God, even that tiny gesture hit me like a punch.

She looked happy. Whole. Not like someone who’d been through what we’d been through.

I pressed my back against the wall and whispered under my breath, “This can’t be real. This can’t be her.”

But it was. I’d know her anywhere.

When she finally walked away, I stayed still until I couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore. Then I sat on the floor, elbows on my knees, head bowed.

I wanted to run to her, pull her into my arms, tell her how much I missed her. But what if I was wrong? What if she wasn’t my Olivia? And even if she was… what right did I have? She was looking at me like I was a stranger. Like I was just another guy in her class.

The thought made my chest ache in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

I dragged myself outside, trying to calm my heartbeat, but it was useless. Everything around me blurred—the laughter, the sound of cars, even the wind. It was all just noise compared to the one thought pounding in my head: She’s alive.

By the time I got to my car, my hands were trembling. I started the engine and just sat there for a minute, staring at nothing. The steering wheel felt too hot under my palms.

“Get it together, Jordan,” I muttered. “You’re seeing things.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that face. I knew that voice. There was no mistaking it.

I drove straight back to the hostel because I couldn’t sit through another lecture. My mind was a wreck. I needed to breathe. I needed to think.

The drive back was a blur. I didn’t even remember half of it—just flashes of sunlight hitting the windshield and my pulse pounding in my ears. When I finally parked, I rested my head against the steering wheel, eyes closed.

Three years. It had been three whole years since I last saw her face.

Three years since I buried the only person I’d ever loved.

And now she was sitting beside me in a classroom, acting like we were total strangers.

When I finally went inside, the room felt suffocating. I threw my backpack on the bed and went straight to the bathroom.

The cold water helped a little, washing the sweat off my face and the shaking out of my fingers. I stayed under the shower longer than I needed to, letting the water drown out the noise in my head.

When I came out, I stood by the mirror, watching the steam fade. My reflection looked like hell—red eyes, pale skin, the weight of memories I couldn’t outrun.

I grabbed my phone again. Still no call from Mom. I checked my messages. Nothing.

I sat on the floor with my back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. My thoughts kept looping back to the same place. Why didn’t anyone tell me? Why was she here? Why now?

And the biggest question—what did she remember?

Because if she remembered everything, then I was in trouble.

My phone buzzed beside me, and I jumped. My heart leapt to my throat. Maybe Mom was finally calling back.

But no.

It wasn’t her.

It was a message.

From an unknown number.

I stared at it for a second before unlocking the phone. My hands felt suddenly sweaty.

Hey… I got your number.

That was it. Just that. No name. No emoji. Nothing.

But I didn’t need a name. I didn’t need to think twice. I knew who it was.

Olivia.

I swallowed hard, my thumb hovering over the screen. My chest felt like it might explode.

She had my number. How? When? Why?

I stared at those six words until they blurred. I could almost hear her voice saying them—soft, a little teasing, the way she always used to text me when she wanted to start a fight she didn’t actually want to win.

My brain screamed at me not to reply. To play it cool. To not open the door I’d spent years trying to close. But my heart… my heart was already running toward her, tripping over every reason not to.

I typed, Hey, then erased it.

Typed again. Who’s this? Deleted that too.

Finally, I dropped the phone beside me and covered my face with my hands. “What the hell are you doing, Jordan?” I muttered. “You can’t go back there.”

But deep down, I already knew it was too late. Seeing her again had cracked something open. Something I didn’t know how to close anymore.