ECHOES OF YOU

Fragments

Lyra hadn’t slept. Not really.

She had spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, her hands clenched in the blanket, replaying Eli’s words over and over. *“Maybe something deeper than life.”*

She hated how they echoed in her mind.

Her military upbringing didn’t allow space for uncertainty or blind belief. Raised by a father who treated emotion like a landmine and a mother who ran drills instead of lullabies, Lyra had learned to compartmentalize. To fight instinct with logic. And dreams? Dreams were just static.

So why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

And worse — why did she feel like her body remembered his touch before her mind had even accepted it?

Across the city, Eli stood shirtless before a sink, water running as he washed blood from his knuckles. The mission had gone south—nothing serious, just a tail gone rogue—but it left him rattled.

Not because of the fight.

Because in the moment before he struck the final blow, he saw Lyra’s face. Not in front of him—but flashing across his vision like a memory not yet He gripped the edge of the sink, jaw tight. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

He’d been trained to resist all forms of psychological manipulation. Mind games. Emotional detachment. Surveillance.

But no training had prepared him for her.

That afternoon, they met again—planned this time. A neutral café, casual setting, no expectations. Lyra arrived first, her posture tight, eyes scanning the room like she was preparing for an ambush.

Eli slipped in five minutes later, his usual calm wrapped in charm. But today, Lyra saw past it.

“You’re hiding something,” she said flatly, before he even sat down.

He blinked, surprised—but only slightly. “Aren’t we all?”

She leaned forward, eyes sharp. “I grew up reading people. Soldiers. Officers. People trying to lie to survive. And you? You’ve got danger in your walk.”

Eli smiled, unbothered. “And you’ve got fire in your voice. But we’re still sitting here.”

The tension was electric. A strange attraction threaded through their distrust like silk through barbed wire.

“I don’t do mysteries,” Lyra said. “Or fate. Or… dream-soulmate crap.”

“And yet,” Eli said, his voice low, “you’re dreaming about me.”

Silence. Long, loaded silence.

Then Lyra whispered, “What are you?”

Eli didn’t answer. But his eyes—they flashed something ancient, something heavy. Something dangerous.

“I’m what happens when memory and mission collide,” he said. “And I think you’re the first part of my life "

Lyra stared at him like she was weighing the risk of staying versus the risk of running.

“You talk like a man who’s seen things no one else has,” she muttered, voice tight.

Eli leaned back, eyes unreadable. “I have. And I’m starting to think you’re one of them.”

Before she could ask what that meant, his phone buzzed. One vibration—urgent. He silenced it without looking, but Lyra noticed the twitch in his jaw.

“Let me guess,” she said, folding her arms. “Mysterious job. Red alerts. You vanish without warning.”

“Something like that,” he said. “I can’t tell you what I do.”

“I already know,” she replied. “You’re a liar.”

That hit. Not because it was false, but because it was fair. And something about her saying it made it sting deeper.

“You think you can scare me off by acting shady?” she continued. “Trust me, I’ve grown up around scarier things than a man who won’t tell me his job.”

Eli’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not trying to scare you off, Lyra. I’m trying to protect you.”

That made her pause.

Then, as if summoned by tension itself, the lights in the café flickered. Lyra blinked—and for half a second, the world wasn’t what it was.

The café disappeared.

In its place: the field. Lavender sky. Echoes of music. And Eli—standing across from her again, his hand reaching through something invisible, like a veil of time.

Her breath caught. She could feel it—see it—but it wasn’t a dream.

It was *now.*

Then, just as quickly, the vision snapped. The café lights steadied. People chatted. The air was normal again.

But Lyra and Eli sat frozen.

“You saw it too,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

He nodded once, slowly. “That wasn’t sleep.”

“No,” she whispered. “That was real.”

Then Eli leaned in closer, voice quieter than breath. “Lyra, I think someone—or something—is trying to trigger these visions. Maybe to wake us up.”

“Wake us up from what?”

He hesitated. “A life that’s not the first. Or not entirely ours.”

The ground beneath them felt like it shifted. And for the first time, Lyra wasn’t just afraid of Eli’s secrets. She was afraid of her own.

Before either of them could process the shared vision, Eli’s phone buzzed again—this time, three rapid pulses.

His expression changed instantly.

“What is it?” Lyra asked, already reaching for the knife she kept tucked inside her boot.

Eli stood, calm but urgent. “We need to leave. Now.”

They were out of the café within seconds, stepping into the cool dusk. The air felt off—heavier, charged, as if the sky was holding its breath. Eli scanned the street, eyes flicking from rooftop to alley.

“Someone’s watching,” he muttered.

Lyra didn’t ask how he knew. She knew the feeling too—it was instinct, drilled into her bones since childhood.

A black SUV pulled up across the road, unmarked but not subtle. Its windows were tinted, and it idled too long.

Eli reached for her hand. “Don’t run. Just move with me. Now.”

They turned down a side street, walking fast but not frantic. But when they turned the next corner—two men in dark jackets stepped out in front of them.

Lyra tensed, but Eli raised a hand, calm and commanding. “I’ll handle this.”

The taller man spoke in a clipped voice. “We didn’t authorize contact.”

“She’s not just contact,” Eli said. “She’s part of it.”

“You compromised protocol.”

“And you compromised *everything* the moment you started tracking her.”

That moment of argument was all Lyra needed.

She moved like lightning—slamming her elbow into the first man’s jaw and sweeping his legs out from under him. The second reached for a weapon, but Eli was faster—twisting the man’s wrist and disarming him in one brutal motion.

“Go!” Eli shouted, grabbing Lyra’s hand again as alarms inside the SUV started blaring.

They ran—through alleyways, over fences, the sounds of pursuit fading behind them. Finally, they ducked into an abandoned railway tunnel, their breaths hard and loud in the silence.

Lyra backed away from him, eyes burning. “You brought them. Who the hell are you really?”

Eli didn’t lie this time.

“I’m a field operative. I’ve done things that aren’t clean. But this?” He pointed between them. “This is bigger than intel or assignments. It’s personal.”

Lyra stared at him, her voice like ice. “I don’t trust you.”

“You don’t have to,” he said. “But trust the part of you that *knew me* before you met me.”

For a moment, the tunnel flickered—brief flashes of the lavender sky bleeding through the darkness like memory trying to force its way back in.

Then everything was still again.

And neither of them knew how much time they had left before the next fracture.