CHAPTER ONE: The girl who forgot me

The first thing I noticed about her was that she was crying. The second thing I noticed was that I knew why. The third thing—the one that frightened me most—was that she didn't remember me.

It had been three years since I had last seen Lena, but I recognized her immediately. Some people disappear from your life and slowly become strangers in your memory, their faces becoming blurry around the edges until you can barely remember the sound of their voice. Lena had never become a stranger to me. I remembered everything: the tiny scar above her eyebrow, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear whenever she was nervous, the ridiculous little wrinkle that appeared between her eyebrows whenever she was concentrating too hard, and the way she always stole food from my plate despite having ordered the exact same meal.

She was standing at the railing of the old university library, watching the sun sink behind the mountains. The sky was violet and gold, and the last light of evening rested gently against her hair. It was almost exactly as I remembered it.

I stopped at the doorway.

“Lena.”

She turned.

Our eyes met, and for one stupid second I forgot how to breathe. She looked exactly the same. Same eyes. Same face. Same person I had spent three years trying to forget.

Then she smiled at me.

It wasn't the smile I remembered. It was polite, careful, almost apologetic—the kind of smile you give someone you've never met before but don't want to offend.

“Hi.”

I stared at her.

She tilted her head. “Do I know you?”

Three words.

That's all it took.

Three years of memories collapsed inside me like a building whose foundation had suddenly disappeared. I laughed quietly, though there was nothing funny about it.

“Yeah,” I said. “You do.”

Her smile faded.

“I'm sorry.”

I looked at her face again, desperately searching for something. A spark. A flicker. Anything.

Nothing.

“You really don't remember me?”

She slowly shook her head.

“No.”

The sun disappeared behind the mountains, and somehow the world seemed darker with it.

Three years earlier, Lena and I had been inseparable. We weren't officially dating—at least, that was what we told everyone—but nobody believed us. We studied together, ate together, walked home together, argued over things so stupid that I sometimes wondered if we had both suffered minor brain damage, and somehow managed to make up five minutes later.

She had a particular talent for stealing my clothes. Hoodies, jackets, shirts—it didn't matter. If I left something unattended for more than ten minutes, it belonged to Lena. Once, I spent an entire afternoon looking for my favorite black hoodie only to find her wearing it in class.

“You stole my hoodie.”

She looked down at herself. “This?”

“Yes, that.”

“I found it.”

“You found it in my room.”

“Exactly. I found it.”

“That isn't how finding works.”

She smiled innocently. “You have no proof.”

“You're literally wearing it.”

She looked at the hoodie again.

“Circumstantial evidence.”

I should have known then that I was doomed.

The last night I spent with her had been on this same roof. It was raining softly, the kind of rain that didn't feel cold until you realized your clothes were completely soaked. Lena had been sitting beside me with my jacket wrapped around her shoulders, because apparently even in the middle of a storm she was still incapable of bringing her own clothes.

“Promise me something,” she had said.

I looked at her. “What?”

“If I ever forget you…”

She paused, and for once she wasn't smiling.

“Make me remember.”

I laughed because the idea seemed ridiculous. “Why would you forget me?”

“I don't know.”

She held out her pinky.

“Just promise.”

I hooked my pinky around hers.

“Promise.”

She smiled, leaned toward me, and kissed my cheek.

It was quick and soft, but it completely destroyed whatever ability I had to form a coherent thought.

She pulled away and started laughing.

“You're blushing.”

“I'm not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“It's cold.”

“Your ears are red.”

“It's extremely cold.”

She laughed harder, then leaned in and kissed me again, this time just beside the corner of my mouth. My entire body went still.

She smiled.

“Goodnight.”

Then she ran down the stairs.

I stayed there for several minutes, staring at the door like an idiot.

That was the last normal night we ever had.

The next morning, Lena disappeared.

No goodbye. No message. Her apartment was empty. Her phone was gone. Her family refused to speak to me, and every attempt I made to find out what had happened ended with another locked door.

For weeks, I searched.

Then months.

Eventually, people told me to move on.

So I did.

Or at least, I became very good at pretending I had.

Until now.

“Are you okay?”

Lena's voice brought me back to the present.

I realized I had been staring at her.

“Yeah.”

“You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“Maybe I have.”

She gave a small laugh. “That's weird.”

“Yeah.”

She turned toward the sunset again, and I noticed something strange in her expression.

“This place feels familiar,” she said.

My heart jumped.

“You remember?”

She frowned. “Not exactly. It's more like…” She searched for the right words. “Like I've been here in a dream.”

“You've been here with me.”

She looked at me.

“When?”

“Three years ago.”

Her hand went to her forehead.

Something changed in her face.

“Wait.”

“Lena?”

“I…”

Her breathing became shallow.

“I remember…”

She suddenly stepped backward.

“Get away from me.”

I froze.

“What?”

“Please.”

She looked genuinely terrified.

“Just leave me alone.”

Then she turned and ran.

I stood there, completely confused, until I noticed something on the ground where she'd been standing.

A silver bracelet.

I picked it up.

There was an engraving on the inside.

YOU PROMISED YOU'D REMEMBER.

My blood went cold.

I had never seen that bracelet before.

That night, I couldn't sleep. I kept turning the bracelet over in my hand, staring at the engraving until the words blurred together. At 2:13 in the morning, my phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

Don't tell Lena you found her.

I sat upright.

I typed, Who is this?

The reply came almost immediately.

She isn't supposed to remember you.

My stomach tightened.

What happened to her?

The typing bubble appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Finally, one last message arrived.

Someone made her forget.

I stared at the screen.

Before I could respond, another message appeared.

And if she remembers everything, they'll come for both of you.

The number disconnected when I tried to call it.

I barely slept.

The next morning, I found Lena outside a coffee shop.

She was sitting alone with a book in front of her.

She looked up when I approached.

For a second, I expected her to tell me to leave.

Instead, she smiled.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

She looked at the chair across from her.

“Sit.”

I sat down.

There was an awkward silence.

Then she pushed a cup toward me.

“Your coffee.”

I looked at it.

“Mine?”

“Black. No sugar.”

I stared at her.

“You remembered.”

She frowned.

“I don't know.”

She touched her temple.

“I just knew.”

A smile escaped me.

“You always said coffee shouldn't taste like candy.”

She laughed.

“That sounds like me.”

“It is.”

She took a sip from her own drink.

Then she looked at me for several seconds.

“You're different.”

“Different how?”

“I don't know. You feel familiar.”

“I am familiar.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

She studied me again.

Then she suddenly pointed at my shirt.

“You still dress like that?”

I looked down.

“What?”

“That shirt.”

“What's wrong with it?”

“It looks like you lost a fight with a laundry basket.”

I stared at her.

“You've been back in my life for twelve minutes and you're already insulting me.”

She smiled.

“There you are.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“That reaction.”

She looked strangely pleased with herself.

“I remember that.”

“What?”

“You getting offended over absolutely nothing.”

“I am not offended.”

“You are.”

“I am defending myself.”

“Same thing.”

For the first time since seeing her again, I laughed.

A real laugh.

And she smiled like she had been waiting for it.

We spent the afternoon together.

It was strange how naturally it happened. She asked about my life, my classes, where I lived, what I'd done during the three years she'd been gone. I answered most of her questions, but when she asked why I had never stopped looking for her, I didn't know what to say.

“You really missed me that much?”

“Yeah.”

“How much?”

I looked at her.

“Enough.”

Her expression softened.

“I think I missed you too.”

“You don't remember me.”

“I know.”

She moved slightly closer.

“That's what's scaring me.”

Her voice became quieter.

“Whenever I'm around you, my mind doesn't remember anything, but…”

She hesitated.

“My body does.”

I swallowed.

“What does that mean?”

“I don't know.”

She looked at my lips.

Then back at my eyes.

“Have you ever kissed me?”

“Once.”

Her eyebrow lifted.

“Only once?”

I smiled. “You kissed me twice.”

Her eyes widened.

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

She looked embarrassed.

“Did I at least do it well?”

I laughed.

“I don't know.”

“You're lying.”

“I'm not.”

“You absolutely are.”

She leaned closer.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Was I good?”

I looked at her.

She was smiling now.

“I remember you being very confident.”

“Good.”

“Annoyingly confident.”

“Still good.”

“Extremely annoying.”

She laughed.

Then she rested her forehead against mine.

The room seemed to disappear around us.

“I don't remember kissing you,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“But I really want to.”

My heart stopped.

She closed her eyes.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then she opened them again.

“I don't know if I'm supposed to.”

I smiled softly.

“Neither do I.”

She laughed under her breath.

“That's probably the worst romantic line I've ever heard.”

“I'm nervous.”

“You?”

“Unfortunately.”

She smiled.

“Good.”

Before either of us could move closer, a waiter appeared beside the table.

“Would you like anything else?”

We both jumped apart.

“No,” Lena said quickly.

The waiter looked between us.

“Okay.”

He walked away.

Lena covered her face with both hands.

“Oh my God.”

I started laughing.

“This is your fault.”

“My fault?”

“You were about to kiss me.”

“You were about to kiss me!”

“I was sitting here.”

“You were leaning toward me!”

“You were leaning first!”

The waiter glanced back at us.

“Everything okay?”

We both answered at the same time.

“Yes!”

He slowly nodded.

“Right.”

He walked away.

Lena looked at me.

“We're idiots.”

“Absolutely.”

For the first time, she looked genuinely happy.

Then her phone rang.

She looked at the screen.

Her smile vanished.

She didn't answer.

The phone stopped.

A message appeared.

Stay away from him.

Another message followed.

You were warned.

Lena's hands began to shake.

I reached for hers.

She didn't pull away.

“Who is it?”

“I don't know.”

“You do.”

She looked at me.

“I think I do.”

That night, she called me.

“Can you come to the library?”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Is this another mysterious rooftop meeting?”

“Please.”

Something in her voice made me stop joking.

Twenty minutes later, I found her waiting on the roof.

She was holding an old photograph.

She handed it to me.

It was a picture of us.

Three years ago.

Standing together on the roof.

Her wearing my jacket.

My arm around her.

We looked happy.

Young.

Completely unaware that our lives were about to fall apart.

“Where did you get this?”

“My mother.”

“Does she know you're here?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“She told me never to come here.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

She turned the photograph over.

There was writing on the back.

My handwriting.

I recognized it instantly.

If you're reading this, something went wrong.

My stomach dropped.

Below it was another sentence.

Lena, don't trust the person who tells you I died.

I looked at her.

“What does that mean?”

“I don't know.”

Her phone rang.

She looked at the screen.

Her face went completely white.

“Who's calling?”

She didn't answer.

The call ended.

A message appeared.

You were warned. Stay away from him.

Then another.

Or this time, he won't survive.

I looked across the street.

A black car sat beneath a streetlight.

Someone was inside.

Watching us.

The car started moving.

It passed slowly.

The window rolled down.

I saw the driver's face.

My blood froze.

I knew him.

Everyone thought he was dead.

But he wasn't.

He looked directly at me.

Then smiled.

Lena grabbed my hand.

“Who was that?”

I couldn't answer.

She squeezed harder.

“Tell me.”

I looked at her.

The girl who had forgotten me.

The girl who was beginning to remember.

The girl someone was terrified of losing again.

And suddenly, I understood.

She hadn't forgotten me.

Someone had made her forget.

“Lena…”

“What?”

“If you remember everything…”

She waited.

“What happens?”

I looked toward the street where the black car had disappeared.

“I don't think either of us gets to go home.”

She stared at me for a moment.

Then, to my surprise, she smiled.

“What?”

“I don't know.”

“What?”

She squeezed my hand.

“I'm starting to remember something.”

“What?”

She looked into my eyes.

“You.”

My heart stopped.

Then she leaned closer.

“I remember that you were terrible at kissing.”

I stared at her.

“What?”

She laughed.

“I don't know if that's true.”

“You can't say something like that and then take it back!”

She was laughing now, the sound echoing across the empty rooftop.

“I just wanted to see your face.”

“You're evil.”

“I remember that too.”

“What?”

She smiled.

“You always called me evil.”

I looked at her.

And for the first time, I didn't see the girl who had forgotten me.

I saw Lena.

My Lena.

She reached up and touched my cheek.

Her smile faded.

“I remember the rain.”

I stopped breathing.

“I remember this roof.”

Her fingers trembled against my face.

“I remember your jacket.”

Tears filled her eyes.

“And I remember promising you something.”

“What?”

She looked at me.

“If I ever forgot you…”

Her voice broke.

“You'd make me remember.”

I pulled her into my arms.

She held me tightly, almost desperately, as though letting go might make everything disappear again.

And somewhere below us, hidden in the darkness, a car door slammed.

Neither of us heard it.

Neither of us saw the man standing across the street.

Watching.

Waiting.

Because Lena had remembered the first piece.

And now he knew.

The game had begun again.