The Boy Who Knows My Name

Chapter 4: The Place Between Memories

I stopped going to the library after that.

Not because I wanted to—but because I had to. Every time I thought about it, I felt that pressure in my chest, like something was waiting for me there.

So I avoided it.

Different routes home. Different people at lunch. Earphones in even when nothing was playing.

But avoidance doesn’t stop something that already knows your name.

It started on a rainy Thursday.

The kind of rain that makes everything feel slightly unreal.

I was walking home when I heard it.

“Lila.”

I stopped.

The street was almost empty. Cars passed slowly. Umbrellas moved in the distance.

I turned.

Nothing.

I laughed under my breath. “Now I’m hearing things outside too.”

I started walking again.

Then—

“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me.”

I froze.

That voice wasn’t in my head.

It was behind me.

I turned slowly.

And saw him.

He stood under a shop awning, rain avoiding him in a way that didn’t make sense.

Same boy.

Same calm eyes.

My throat tightened. “You.”

He nodded. “Me.”

“You can’t just appear like that.”

“I didn’t appear,” he said.

“Yes, you did!”

“You just noticed me.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It does if you stop expecting things to be normal.”

The rain grew heavier, but neither of us moved.

Everyone else rushed past. But between us, everything felt paused.

“I stopped going to the library,” I said suddenly.

“I know.”

“Of course you do,” I muttered.

A pause.

“I only know what you remember around me.”

“What does that mean?”

He glanced past me briefly, like checking something unseen.

“It means you’re closer now.”

“Closer to what?”

His eyes returned to mine.

“Me.”

My stomach tightened.

“No,” I said quickly. “I don’t like that answer.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

Silence stretched.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

His voice softened. “Because if I do, you might remember.”

“And that’s bad?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Finally—

“It depends on what you remember.”

That made everything worse.

I stepped closer.

“I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

For the first time, his expression changed slightly—softer.

“I know,” he said.

That calmness made my chest tighten.

“If you know so much,” I said, “why do you keep calling my name?”

He looked at me.

“Because you answered me once.”

“When?”

“Not here.”

“Stop saying that.”

He didn’t argue.

Instead, he said quietly:

“It means I’m not supposed to be here.”

That made me still.

The rain felt colder.

“You’re not real,” I said, quieter now.

He didn’t deny it.

That scared me more.

He stepped back slightly.

“I shouldn’t stay long.”

“No—wait.”

My voice came out faster than I expected. “Not like this. I still don’t understand.”

That made him pause.

“You’re starting to remember me even when I’m not here.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It isn’t for you.”

A car passed, splashing water across the road.

When I looked back—

He was fading.

Not disappearing quickly.

Just becoming less certain, like the world was correcting itself.

“Wait!” I stepped forward. “Tell me—”

But he was gone.

Only rain remained.

Only silence.

And my name, echoing faintly in the air like it didn’t know where to go.

“Lila.”

This time… it didn’t feel like a call.

It felt like a memory trying to return.