BETWEEN ME AND YOU

THE BREATH BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

Kristine felt it, a pulse through the air, the faint drag of wood against skin. He’d found the place where the worlds touched. She ran toward the sensation, the mist thinning around her. Shapes began to form, walls, ceilings, the suggestion of the house she knew. But everything was wrong. Too still. Too bright.

Then she saw it: the outline of a man kneeling, his hand pressed to something above her. She could see him through the veil, like glass frosted with ice.

“Banjo!” she cried.

He looked up. For a heartbeat, their eyes met, hers wide with fear, his with disbelief. Then something else moved behind her. Heavy footsteps, dragging through the mist. Rico’s voice whispered, but it wasn’t Rico anymore.

“You opened the door. Let us in.”

The mist around her exploded into motion. Figures, half-seen, half-felt, rose from the ground, their faces blurred, their bodies flickering like film burned too bright.

“Rico!” she screamed. “Make it stop!”

He turned toward her, his face now hollow, his outline breaking apart. “It’s not me anymore,” he said. “It never was.”

She ran, and with every step the ground solidified, boards forming beneath her feet, walls closing in until she was back inside the house. But everything pulsed like it was breathing.

Through the wall in front of her, she heard Banjo’s voice: “Kristine, if you can hear me...hold on!”

She pressed her palms to the wall. “I’m here!”

A heartbeat answered on the other side. But it wasn’t his. It was bigger. slower and older.

Banjo Gomez heard the sound under the floor grew louder, now a knocking that matched the rhythm of his pulse. The compass in his hand grew hot. The red light brightened, spilling over his fingers until it burned. He dropped it with a cry. It didn’t hit the ground, it hung in midair, spinning faster and faster until it burst like glass under heat.

From the glow, rose a voice of someone, it's from Kristine’s, desperate voices. "Banjo, don’t come down here.”

“Kristine?” Banjo froze as he called her.

The floor trembled. Boards began to split apart, one by one, like something pushing up from underneath.

And then, her hand appeared again. But this time, there were two.

Kristine could feel it cracking open, two paths unfolding in front of her. One was warm and familiar, pulling her toward the sound of his voice. The other was cold, softly promising peace, rest, and the chance of forgetting.

Both hands reached for her.

Both claimed to love her.

Both spoke with his voice.

Kristine felt tears streaming down her face as she grappled with the fear of losing her will to fight for life and make a decision. But amidst all the turmoil, one thought consumed her, she had to keep the promise she made to live for Rico. Even though it hurt deeply to let go of the man she loved, she knew she had to honor that commitment.

“Banjo?” she called.

Is he the one that she chose to live with?

The walls pulsed once, and the world began to crack like ice. It started to split when Banjo’s mind fractured, too. He saw both hands reaching through the light, one warm, one cold, and for an instant he couldn’t tell which belonged to her. Then the walls screamed, the compass shattered again, and the house tore itself in two.

Then came silence. And in that silence, Banjo was somewhere else.

Banjo Gomez didn’t know when the floor gave way, only that the air was gone, replaced by weightless white. He fell without falling. The house, the mist, even his voice, everything dissolved into a place that wasn’t there.

Then came a sound.

A heartbeat. Slow, rhythmic and familiar.

He opened his eyes and saw her.

Kristine stood on what looked like the surface of a lake made of glass. Light shimmered beneath it, gold and soft, flickering like sunlight through water. Her hair moved as if stirred by unseen wind, her eyes glassy with confusion and awe.

For a long time, neither spoke.

Then Banjo whispered, as if afraid she’d vanish, “Kristine?”

Her name left his lips like a prayer.

She turned toward him, slowly, as though pulled by something deeper than sight. “You found me…” Her voice trembled, half wonder, half sorrow.

“I never stopped looking.” He took a step closer. The glass rippled but held. “I thought I lost you again.”

Her lips quivered into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You did. Maybe we both did.”

Banjo reached out a hand, and she mirrored him. When their fingers touched, the light around them flared, casting long shadows across the water. Their skin didn’t meet, it hummed. A warmth passed between them, pulsing in time with their hearts.

He closed his eyes. “I can feel you.”

“I’m not sure if you should.” Her gaze dropped. “I’m not the same anymore, Banjo.”

He laughed softly, the sound breaking with emotion. “You could be a storm, and I’d still recognize your silence.”

Kristine’s eyes filled. “You always say things like that. Things that make it impossible to let go.”

“Then don’t.”

“I promised Rico I’d live,” she whispered. “But living means leaving you.”

Banjo’s jaw tightened, his eyes searching hers. “Rico… the man from before. The one in your memories.”

“He’s not just in my memories,” she said, voice trembling. “He’s part of what’s holding me together. When I woke up in your world, I was supposed to start over. But now everything’s mixed, his promises, your love, my fear. I don’t know where I belong.”

Banjo stepped closer until only breath separated them. “Then stay where you feel. Not where you think you should.”

Kristine’s tears broke free. “You don’t understand. If I stay, he disappears. Everything I remembered about him, the things that made me… me… they’ll fade.”

“And if you go?” Banjo asked quietly.

“Then you’ll fade,” she said, voice breaking.

The air between them crackled. The lake beneath their feet pulsed with light, warm on one side, cold on the other, as if two worlds were fighting for her.

Banjo took her hand again, and this time their palms met, truly met. It was electric, so real it hurt. His thumb brushed her knuckles, his breath trembled against her cheek.

“I buried you once,” he said, the words tearing from his chest. “I kissed your face when it was cold, and I thought that was the end of every dream I ever had. And then you came back to me, to our son, to this house. I don’t care how broken it is. I just need to know, if there’s even one heartbeat of you left that still calls me home.”

Her breath hitched. “Banjo…”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Please. Tell me I’m not loving a ghost.”