The Boy From My Other Life

“You’re cheating on me.” Mira looked up from grating cheese. “Excuse me?” Darren stood by the stove stirring pasta sauce with the seriousness of a man delivering devastating news. “With another man,” he repeated. Mira blinked slowly. “Incredible. We’ve been married two years and this is how you communicate?” “You leave me no choice.” “Oh my God.” Rain tapped softly against the apartment windows while jazz music played somewhere from Darren’s phone speaker. Their kitchen smelled like garlic, butter, and slightly burnt bread because Mira forgot the timer again. Outside, the city glowed beneath the wet evening streets. Inside, Darren was apparently fighting for his marriage. “The full moon is tonight,” he said suspiciously. Mira narrowed her eyes. “You cannot keep blaming the moon for your problems.” “I’m not blaming the moon.” Darren pointed the wooden spoon toward her dramatically. “I’m blaming moon-boy.” Mira nearly dropped the cheese grater. “Stop calling him that.” “So there IS a him.” “You’re impossible.” Darren looked unbearably smug about this discovery. Mira rolled her eyes and turned back to the counter, pretending to focus on the pasta instead of the heat crawling into her face. The dreams had started months ago. Not scary dreams. Not bad dreams. Just… strange ones. Always the same city. Always raining. Always nighttime. And recently— always the same boy. She didn’t even know how she knew his name. Noah. It simply existed in her head one morning like a memory she forgot she had. Which honestly felt mildly illegal. “You’re thinking about him again,” Darren said casually. Mira gasped. “Can you not say things like that while I’m holding a knife!?” Darren laughed quietly under his breath. That stupid soft laugh. Mira hated how easily he could make everything feel lighter. Even weird things. Especially weird things. Darren plated the pasta while Mira carried drinks to the table. Their apartment wasn’t big. Just cozy. Books stacked everywhere. Blankets draped over chairs. Tiny plants Mira kept forgetting to water. Home. “So,” Darren said while sitting down, “what’s moon-boy like?” Mira pointed her fork at him. “You’re enjoying this too much.” “I need to know who I’m competing against.” “You are not competing against anyone.” “Mhm.” “He’s literally not real.” Darren took a thoughtful bite of pasta. “That honestly makes him more dangerous.” Mira burst into laughter. A little too loudly. The couple upstairs immediately stomped on their floor in protest. Mira lowered her voice instantly. “Sorry!” she shouted toward the ceiling. Another aggressive stomp answered her. Darren leaned closer and whispered dramatically: “They can sense your emotional affair.” Mira shoved garlic bread into his mouth. ~ Later that night, rain continued softly against the windows while Mira laid in bed scrolling through her phone. Beside her, Darren was already asleep. How he slept so quickly every night remained deeply offensive to her. Mira glanced toward him. Messy hair. One arm stretched across her side of the bed. Breathing slow and steady. Meanwhile she was wide awake spiraling over a man her subconscious apparently invented. Embarrassing. Her Notes app was still open from earlier. Inside were random things she’d written over the past few months: Blue train. Silver bridge. Song with no lyrics. Noah. Mira stared at the last word. Then quickly locked her phone. “Nope,” she whispered to herself. “We are not emotionally investing in dream-people.” Beside her, Darren shifted slightly in his sleep. “Mm,” he murmured. “Tell moon-boy to pay rent.” Mira stared at him in disbelief. “Are you awake!?” No response. Unbelievable. She sighed, smiled despite herself, and finally closed her eyes. ~ Rain. Cold air brushed against her skin. Mira frowned slightly. She could hear distant train tracks somewhere nearby. When she opened her eyes, she was standing beneath glowing street signs in a city she had never seen before. Or maybe had seen before. Just not in real life. People walked past carrying umbrellas while neon lights reflected against wet pavement. Everything felt soft around the edges. Dreamlike. Then someone brushed past her shoulder. Mira turned. And there he was. The boy from her dreams. Dark hair damp from rain. Hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. Standing beneath a flickering convenience store light. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then his eyes widened slightly. Not dramatically. Just enough to look… surprised. Like he hadn’t expected her to actually notice him this time. Mira pointed immediately. “You.” The boy blinked once. “…Me?” “Yes, you.” He looked around briefly before pointing at himself. “Still me?” Mira crossed her arms. “You’ve been appearing in my dreams for months.” A pause. Then: “You’re shorter than I expected.” Mira gasped. “That’s your first sentence!?” For the first time— the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. Almost a smile. And somehow that felt strangely familiar.