The twitch was small. A flicker of movement no one noticed.
But I noticed.
My pinky finger curled ever so slightly on the hospital bed.
It was enough to make my entire world shift on its axis.
For the first time in ten years... something changed.
I wanted to scream. To cry. To run.
But my body was still trapped.
Still sleeping.
My soul, however, it was racing.
In the dream space, Jay had disappeared again—his shadow dissolving like mist, leaving behind only my name echoing in the distance.
"Yumi..."
It haunted me.
No, not haunted—called to me.
And I couldn't stop thinking about the look on his face when he said it.
Like he didn't even realize the name had left his lips.
Like it wasn't from memory, but instinct.
Like something inside him knew me before he did.
---
In the real world, Suha came back the next day with her usual iced coffee and thick novel.
She talked like always, telling me about her day, what she cooked, what dramas she was watching. Her voice grounded me. Reminded me of the world I was still a part of, even if I couldn't touch it.
Then her phone buzzed.
[Breaking News: Yominer's Jay Faints Onstage Mid-Song]
She gasped.
I floated to her side instantly.
The screen showed grainy footage — Jay clutching his chest, eyes wide with panic, then collapsing before the lights went out.
"No way," Suha whispered. "Jay...?"
The video cut to paramedics rushing the stage. Fans screaming. A manager waving off reporters.
And then... a single quote in the caption.
"Right before he fainted, he whispered something... 'She's waking up.'"
I froze.
What?
How could he...?
I stared at the screen. My heart—the one that technically wasn't working—felt like it was about to burst.
He said she's waking up.
Not "I don't feel well," not "help"—she's waking up.
He meant me.
He had to.
Something was happening.
Something deep. Bigger than fate. Beyond time.
And if Jay was connected to me—if this bond was real—
Then maybe, just maybe...
I wasn't as lost as I thought.
Jay sat upright in the hospital bed, drenched in sweat, a thousand voices outside the room calling his name—but he couldn't hear them.
All he could hear was one.
"Yumi..."
He didn't know why he said it. The name had slipped out of his mouth like it belonged there.
Like he'd always known it.
He held his head in his hands, flashes of a place he didn't recognize swirling behind his closed eyes. A white room. A hospital bed. A girl with long black hair, a quiet smile, and a voice like summer rain—
but every time he tried to focus, her face blurred.
Why couldn't he see her?
Why couldn't he remember?
His manager barged in.
"Jay, you okay?! The fans are freaking out, you passed out mid-performance! Do you want to cancel the tour?"
Jay didn't respond.
He just whispered again, "Yumi..."
---
Meanwhile, back at the hospital, something else changed.
Suha had left for the day, but the nurse swore she heard a monitor beep differently in Yumi's room. When she walked in, everything looked the same—Yumi still in bed, eyes closed, silent.
But a single tear rolled down her cheek.
---
Inside the astral world, Yumi was pacing the dream version of her hospital room. The walls were cracking. Lights flickered. The door—which had always been locked—was now slightly open.
"What's happening to me...?"
She turned quickly, startled by a sound. A hum. A melody. A voice.
It was him.
Jay's voice, echoing in her mind, singing the song he fainted during onstage.
It felt like he was reaching for her.
She pressed her hand against the wall, and it shimmered. Reality was weakening.
That's when she felt it again—her pinky finger twitched. This time, her wrist moved too.
A sob caught in her throat. "Am I... coming back?"
---
Jay's dream that night was different.
No stadium. No screaming fans.
Just a girl standing under a cherry blossom tree in the middle of winter.
She turned slowly toward him.
This time, her face wasn't blurry.
Her eyes met his.
"You finally found me," she said.
Then he woke up.
Breathless.
Jay didn't sleep that night.
He sat on the edge of his hotel bed, sketchpad in hand, eyes wide and haunted. The pencil moved almost on its own—lines flowing, curves forming, and before he even understood why, a girl's face emerged on the page.
Not one he recognized. Not from real life, anyway.
But her expression was... familiar. Gentle. Hopeful. Longing.
"She's the girl from the dream," he muttered, brushing his thumb across the paper. "Who are you...?"
He didn't know that miles away, in a quiet hospital room, the same girl moved her fingers for the first time in a decade.
---
Suha gasped, nearly dropping the thermos of tea she brought for her daily visit. "Yumi?!"
The nurse rushed in, followed by the doctor.
"Did you see that?!" Suha shouted. "Her hand—it moved!"
The doctor frowned, adjusting Yumi's vitals. "Could be a nerve reflex. Let's not get our hopes—"
Yumi's lips twitched.
Not a smile. Not a word.
But intent.
The astral version of her screamed with joy. "I'm still here! I can feel again!"
Her voice echoed through the dreamspace, as if the barrier between worlds was thinning.
---
That night, Jay held the sketch close to his chest.
And for the first time in years, he whispered a prayer.
Not to be famous.
Not for success.
But for her.
Whoever she was.
Wherever she was.
He just wanted to find her.
---
In the quiet of the hospital room, the radio on the nightstand flickered on by itself.
The voice of Yominer filled the silence. Jay's voice.
And Yumi smiled in her dream for the first time.
To be continued....💐..