Reverie

It wasn't a dream.

Not quite.

But it wasn't real either, not in the way pain usually is.

He was standing across the street, under a flickering lamp, hair damp from the rain. His hands were in his pockets, head tilted slightly, like he'd been waiting. Like he always waited. For her.

Mahveen didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Even in this half-made memory, she knew what came next. The look. The ache. The silence. That almost-smile of his that never reached his eyes.

"You came," she whispered, though no sound left her mouth.

Zayyan blinked. Once. Twice.
He opened his mouth, but no words came.

They never did.

The streetlight dimmed.
His figure blurred.
And just like that - he was gone.

Again.

She woke up, gasping quietly, hand clutching the bracelet on her wrist like it could hold him in place.

It didn't.

He was always just out of reach.

That's the thing about reveries.

They feel like home

until you open your eyes.