30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡagFDZ2sQYf
They sat beneath the apricot tree, shoulder to shoulder, as the golden sky shifted into a dusky lavender. Around them, the orchard glowed soft and warm—like the world itself was holding its breath, listening.
Almond couldn’t stop looking at him. Glory.
His presence didn’t feel like meeting a stranger. It felt like remembering a song you used to hum before you even knew what music was. Every glance, every word, every pause—it was all strangely familiar, like the script had already been written in a language only their hearts could read.
“I thought I was going crazy,” Almond admitted softly, running her fingers through the grass. “For years, I’ve seen you in dreams. Heard your voice. Felt like I missed you, even though I never knew you. I thought maybe… I made you up.”
Glory turned his head to look at her. “You didn’t.”
She looked at him, eyes uncertain. “Then what is this?”
He was quiet for a moment, watching the wind brush through the orchard.
“I think,” he said slowly, “our minds have always known each other. Maybe longer than our bodies have. Maybe longer than this life.”
Almond gave him a side glance, amused. “That sounds like something out of a poem.”
“It might be,” he said, grinning. “But that doesn’t make it untrue.”
They lapsed into silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It was like their hearts were having a conversation their mouths didn’t need to translate.
After a while, she asked, “Do you remember all of it? All the dreams?”
He nodded. “Almost every one. The poppy fields. The rooftop in the city of mist. That time we danced on a train that didn’t have tracks. You wore that gold dress… the one that sparkled like starlight.”
Almond’s eyes widened. “I remember that one. I thought I imagined the dress.”
“No,” Glory said. “You imagined it perfectly.”
She smiled, her cheeks glowing.
“But it’s not just dreams,” he said more seriously. “Sometimes I feel things before they happen. I wake up with your name in my mouth, and I swear I can still smell your perfume. It’s like my soul is tracing its way back to you.”
Her eyes shimmered. “Why us?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I think we’ve been finding each other for a long time. Over and over. A thousand versions of us.”
Almond leaned back against the tree trunk, exhaling a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
“It’s terrifying,” she said. “And kind of beautiful.”
“Exactly.” He reached for her hand—gentle, no pressure, just… there.
She didn’t hesitate.
Their fingers intertwined like they’d done it before, maybe a hundred times. Maybe more.
She looked at him, their joined hands resting between them.
“So what now?” she asked.
He shrugged lightly, but his smile was soft and serious.
“Now we figure out how to stay.”
That night, Almond couldn’t sleep.
Not because of worry.
But because the world suddenly felt too real.
The whisper in her mind—the one that had always faded with daylight—was silent now. Not gone. Just… resting. Like it no longer needed to call for something that had finally arrived.
And in the stillness of her little attic room, she whispered back—
“I remember you too.”
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