The Letter Under Her Pillow

Mia wasn't expecting anything that morning. Her life was a routine of dull classes, cafeteria food, and avoiding eye contact with people who once knew her as someone else. But when she made her bed, she felt something underneath her pillow. A folded piece of parchment paper-yellowed at the edges, written in ink that looked old but smelled like fresh roses.

"I remember you. Do you remember me? Midnight. The old library. Come alone."

Her fingers trembled. No name. No clue who left it. But something deep inside her chest stirred-like a memory on the edge of awakening.

The problem was: Mia had no memory of anyone who would write her a letter like this. Especially not one so hauntingly familiar.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Same blue eyes. Same quiet sadness. But suddenly, her own face didn't look like it belonged to her anymore.

Midnight. The old library.

She would go.

Even if it was a mistake.

Especially if it was a mistake.