It came to her like a dream dressed in sunlight.
Soft, golden, and slow, the kind of dream that tiptoes across the edge of waking — where the air smells like old summers and the sky hums your name.
She was floating.
Not lost — not anymore.
For the first time in forever, the weight in her chest wasn't fear. It was light. It was warmth curling like steam from cocoa. Her name — her real name — slipped into her thoughts like a leaf drifting onto water.
Ayla.
And with it, the sky inside her burst open.
Memories poured down like rain after a long, dry season — sweet and aching. They weren't jagged this time. No screaming, no smoke, no hands dragging her through shadows. This was different. This was hers.
She saw herself.
Barefoot on cracked concrete, chasing Kalen through sun-drenched alleys, their laughter echoing like birdsong. Her old coat flapping behind her like wings. Her cheeks sticky with stolen mango juice. The stars above their rooftop glowing like they knew her by name.
She saw Rhea's face, soft and smudged with worry, pressing cool cloths to her fevered skin. Her voice was music, even when it lied.
She saw a girl with scraped knees and sharp eyes, a girl who learned how to fight back. Not because she wanted to—but because the world made her.
And she smiled.
Inside the stillness of her broken body, Ayla smiled.
Because this time, the memories weren't monsters. They were fireflies blinking in the dark, lighting the path home. And she followed them — step by step, breath by breath — until she stood in the heart of herself.
She wasn't Celeste.
She never had been.
But that didn't scare her.
Because she was Ayla.
And Ayla was enough.
The weight of pretending melted like snow under spring sun. The masks, the lies, the silence — they all unraveled gently, like threads from a dress too tight to wear.
And in their place: air.
She was breathing again. Maybe not in the world outside — not yet — but inside, where it mattered most, she was alive.
Her truth had come back to her, not like thunder, but like a lullaby.
Not like a ghost, but like a dawn.
She remembered.
And she was free.