Echoes of you

Through the Veil

Sophie didn't go straight home after the café.

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in soft purples and dusky pinks, but her mind was still racing, unable to settle. She walked aimlessly through the streets, her hands stuffed in her coat pockets as the cold air nipped at her cheeks. Her conversation with Aiden felt distant now, blurred around the edges, like something that had happened days ago rather than just an hour earlier.

Everything felt distant lately.

Except for him.

That presence had been with her ever since she'd stepped off the train. It was faint, hovering at the edge of her awareness like a shadow she couldn't quite shake. Not threatening—never that—but constant, like a hand resting on the small of her back, gently guiding her somewhere she wasn't sure she wanted to go.

She paused at a crosswalk, watching the traffic pass. Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag, knuckles turning white with the pressure.

This wasn't normal. She knew that. She wasn't supposed to feel someone else's emotions as if they were her own. She wasn't supposed to hear a voice that came from nowhere or feel a presence that didn't exist.

And yet... it did exist. He existed. She was sure of it.

"I'm here."

The memory of his voice echoed in her mind, soft but so real, like a warm breath against her skin. The way he'd said it, with such certainty—it made her heart ache, as though he had been searching for her for so long and had finally found her. But why? Who was he?

The light changed, and Sophie crossed the street, her thoughts swirling.

There had to be an explanation for this. She wasn't going crazy. There had to be a reason why she was feeling this and hearing this. Maybe it was some weird psychic thing, some kind of connection to someone far away. It had to be. People talked about stuff like that—energy, the universe, souls reaching out to each other. It couldn't all be coincidence.

Still, a nagging voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she knew nothing about this. She was an artist, not a psychic. She had no idea how to deal with emotions that didn't belong to her or whispers that crept into her mind uninvited.

What she needed was answers.

But who could give her those?

As she turned the corner, her feet carrying her toward her apartment, Sophie's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

It was a text from Aiden.

"I know you're not okay. Call me when you're ready."

She sighed, her thumb hovering over the keyboard, but she didn't reply. Not yet. She couldn't explain any of this to him, at least not in a way that would make sense. She wasn't even sure it made sense to her.

Another buzz, but this time it wasn't her phone.

It was something deeper.

She stopped mid-step, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. The street around her faded into the background, the rush of cars and pedestrians slipping away until there was nothing but the beating of her pulse in her ears—and then the faint, familiar warmth blooming in her chest.

"Sophie."

Her breath caught.

It wasn't a voice, not really. It was more like a thought, a feeling, but it was him. The same presence, the same whisper, threading through her mind like a silk ribbon.

She looked around, her eyes scanning the emptying street as if he might somehow materialize in front of her. But there was no one. Just shadows stretching long against the pavement, flickering in the fading light.

"I'm here."

She swallowed hard, pressing a hand to her chest. The warmth was stronger now, pulsing in time with her heartbeat, filling her veins with a strange mixture of comfort and desperation.

"Who are you?" she whispered aloud, her voice barely more than a breath. "What do you want from me?"

For a moment, there was silence. Sophie held her breath, waiting, hoping for an answer, even though she wasn't sure she was ready for one.

And then, finally—

"You already know me."

Her knees nearly gave out beneath her. She grabbed onto the nearest streetlamp, steadying herself as the world spun around her. That voice—it was deeper now, clearer than before, as if whoever he was had finally broken through whatever wall had kept him from reaching her fully.

"I don't understand," she said, her voice shaking. "How do I know you?"

There was a pause, a faint echo of sadness that trickled through her chest, tightening like a vice.

"I've been with you for so long."

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, leaning heavily against the lamp post. "That's impossible. I don't—"

"I've waited."

The words wrapped around her, pulling her in, deeper and deeper, until it felt like she was sinking into something vast and dark. For a second, she wasn't on the street anymore. She was somewhere else, somewhere far away, a place that was cold and endless. It was like a void, a vast expanse of nothingness, but there was something else, too—a flicker of light, faint and distant, barely there but unmistakable.

And at the center of it all, she could feel him.

"I don't understand," she repeated, her voice trembling. "I don't understand any of this."

"You will."

She opened her eyes, gasping as the world snapped back into focus around her. The street, the cars, the buildings—they were all there, solid and real. But that sense of him hadn't left. It was stronger now, like he was standing right behind her, close enough to touch, even though she knew there was no one there.

"You have to stop," she whispered, her voice thick with fear. "I don't know who you are or what this is, but I can't."

"I need you, Sophie."

She froze.

The way he said her name—it was like a plea, a prayer, filled with such raw, aching emotion that it brought tears to her eyes. She could feel it—feel him, his desperation, his fear. It wasn't just a voice anymore. It was a person, a real person, someone who needed her, someone who was reaching out to her from somewhere she couldn't see.

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to help. All she knew was that whoever he was, he was real. He wasn't just some figment of her imagination. He was there, waiting for her, calling out to her from the other side of something she couldn't even comprehend.

But how could she reach him?

And if she did—what would happen?

The streetlights flickered above her, casting long, wavering shadows across the pavement. Sophie pulled her coat tighter around her, her breath misting in the cold air as she hurried down the street.

She didn't stop until she reached her apartment. By the time she made it through the door, her hands were shaking so badly she could barely turn the key. She stumbled inside, slamming the door behind her and leaning against it, her chest heaving.

She stood there for a long time, eyes closed, listening to the stillness of the empty apartment. But the presence was still there, lingering, waiting.

"I'm here."

It wasn't a threat. She could feel that. But it was a promise.

She didn't know who he was. She didn't know where he was. But he was there.

And somehow, Sophie knew this wasn't something she could run from.

Not anymore.