She is Ananda Alzera, the girl who wandered into Wali's dreams, painting his life in hues he never knew existed. Her presence brought a vibrancy to his world, like the first bloom after a long winter. Yet in the waking realm, she is tethered to anot...
The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the bedroom. I stirred awake slowly, feeling of her presence beside me. The space we shared felt intimate, like it held both our memories, our stories. The faint scent of roses lingered in the air, a comforting reminder of our daily rituals. Her breath was steady, peaceful, as the sunlight kissed her face.
As my eyes fluttered open, I felt the tender touch of her hand grazing my face, her fingers tracing the edge of my brow, brushing away any remnants of sleep. Her caress was slow, almost reverent, as if she were savoring this quiet moment as much as I was. I turned slightly, just enough to see him gazing down at me with a softness in her eyes that spoke of love, of shared mornings like this, of everything unspoken between us.
"Good morning, wali," she whispered, his voice a soothing murmur that floated between us, wrapping me in warmth. "Any request for breakfast today? Mr?" Her words felt familiar, almost too familiar, like a well-worn melody that you can't quite place but know you've heard a thousand times.
As i blinked away the haze of sleep, something stirred deep within me. It wasn't just the soft light in the room or the comfort of her presence—something more profound shifted. Suddenly, fragments of memories surged through me, flashes of moments I couldn't fully grasp but felt woven into the very fabric of who I was.
I didn't see her face in full—it was blurred, as though the sun was playing tricks, masking the details. But the parts I could see, the curve of her lips as they formed the words, the shape of her brow, all those scattered pieces were enough. They fell into place like a puzzle I'd been trying to solve in my sleep. And with them came the understanding, the deep, resounding realization that this wasn't just a room we shared, and she wasn't just anyone.
she was someone I had known before, beyond this morning, beyond this space. Memories of past days, past nights, past conversations began to take shape, filling in the gaps, whispering truths I hadn't been ready to face until now. Something in the way she looked at me, in the way she called me "Wali," felt like a key unlocking a door I had kept closed for too long. The pieces were finally coming together, revealing a story I had somehow forgotten but had always been a part of.
And now, as the morning sun bathed us in its light, I realized that the puzzle wasn't just of her—it was of us, of who we were, of everything we had shared, and everything we were meant to be.
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She stood up slowly and reached for a photo album sitting on the shelf, one I hadn't noticed before. As she placed it in front of me, I read the cover: "Wali's Birthday". The title alone made me feel disoriented. My birthday had just passed, and as far as I knew, there had been no celebration. But as I opened the album, I found picture after picture of moments I couldn't remember—photos of me smiling, surrounded by friends, all of us laughing as if it had been the best night of my life. There was even a video clip she played on her phone, showing me and my friends gathered around a cake.
In the video, I watched myself blow out the candles, but the number on the cake stood out. There was a big "27" shaped in wax on top of the cake, but I'm still 26. Confusion washed over me. How could this be? Did I somehow miss an entire year? I don't even remember this happening, yet there it was, right in front of me, as real as the present moment. My mind raced, trying to piece together where I was and how I got here.
"Look, you're so cute here," she said with a soft chuckle, her voice is warm, but I felt unsettled.
The video kept playing, and suddenly, out of nowhere, Onyon—one of my mischievous friends—threw a piece of cake at me in the video. My face was a mess, but the laughter in the room was infectious. she smiled beside me. "Onyon's always been naughty with you, hasn't he? But you should thank him; he's the one who planned this whole party for you," she said, nodding toward the screen. "Thanks, Onyon," she added, though the words felt more like they should've come from me.
I stared at the girl's face. her hair fell partially over her eyes, shadowing half her features. There was something off about all of this, something that tugged at the edges of my awareness. My heart raced as I realized something: I don't even know her name. after two days and with everything happening around me, I've never asked. Who was she? And more importantly, why was I sitting here, watching a video of a birthday party that felt like it belonged to someone else—someone who wasn't me? I couldn't shake the growing feeling that something was terribly wrong, like I was lost in a dream I hadn't woken up from.
Who's this stranger sitting next to me? And why did she know so much about a birthday I never even had? The more I thought about it, the less it made sense, and the more I felt like I was losing my grip on what was real.
