The silence that followed Kade's words settled between them like a thick mist. Arielle didn't know what she had expected—maybe denial, maybe deflection—but not this. Not a quiet confirmation that made her blood run cold.
She stepped back slightly, enough to put distance between them but not so much to seem afraid. Yet the fear clawed at her insides.
"You knew?" she asked, voice strained. "You knew something was off about me and you still..."
Kade didn't move. "I didn't know for sure. I just... I saw the signs. You react to things like her. You get that same faraway look she used to have when she was lost in her head. I'd be a fool not to notice."
"But you called me Luna," she whispered, hugging herself tightly.
He sighed and leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. "I did. I shouldn't have, not like that. But Arielle, you don't understand what it's like to lose someone who was your entire world and then find pieces of her in someone else."
"I'm not her," Arielle said firmly. "I'm not Luna."
"No," Kade said. "But maybe... maybe you were."
That sentence shattered the last string holding her together.
She turned away. "You should go."
Kade hesitated. "Arielle—"
"Please."
He left without another word.
—
The next day, Arielle couldn't concentrate in class. Her thoughts kept circling around Kade's words. Around the questions she had no answers to. Her memories still hadn't returned, not fully. Bits and fragments, like blurry photographs. A laugh in the wind. A song she couldn't remember the words to. A silver locket in her palm.
She gripped the edge of her desk and breathed deeply. No one else knew. No one else had noticed.
Except him.
And now... now she didn't know what scared her more—that he might be right, or that he might be wrong.
—
That evening, she sat in front of the mirror, brushing her hair slowly. Her aunt had left earlier to run errands, and the house was quiet. Too quiet.
The girl in the mirror didn't look different. But she felt it.
Her gaze dropped to the old wooden box on her table—the one she had found hidden behind books on her aunt's shelf two nights ago. She hadn't opened it yet. Something in her had told her to wait.
Now, she opened it.
Inside were letters. Photographs. Journal pages. Everything looked aged. And on one of the letters, she saw the name:
Luna Mae Wilder.
Her breath caught.
She unfolded the letter with trembling hands.
"To whoever finds this, if you're reading it, it means I'm gone. Not dead, just... gone. There are things you'll never understand, secrets I was forced to carry. I wish I could explain, but all I can say is this—don't trust everyone who claims they know you. People lie. Memories lie. But your soul? It remembers. And it will always lead you home."
Tears slid down Arielle's cheeks before she realized she was crying. The handwriting was familiar. Too familiar.
There were photos too—one of Luna with long hair and the same birthmark behind her ear.
Arielle touched her own. It was there. The exact spot.
She staggered back. Her hands were shaking.
The doorbell rang. Once. Twice.
She blinked and wiped her face, trying to steady herself before walking to the door. When she opened it, her heart nearly stopped.
It was the girl from the library.
The one who looked like her. Or rather, like how she used to look.
Only this time, the girl was crying.
"Please," she whispered. "I need to talk to you. It's about Luna."
Arielle didn't move. She couldn't.
"I know this is insane," the girl said, her voice trembling, "but I think you're in danger."