The note haunted me.
"They'll erase me again if you're not careful."
Erase. Again.
It wasn't just the past Rin had forgotten. Something,or someone,was actively pulling her away from me. From us.
I tried not to let it consume me, but every hallway we passed through, every classroom we sat in, made the truth impossible to ignore. Her glances lingered longer than they should. Her silence spoke louder than any rejection. She knew something. Even if she couldn't say it.
On Thursday, the system chimed softly just as I stepped into the library.
"Observation: Subject Rin appears to experience fragmented recall between 3:00 and 3:15 PM daily."
Fragmented recall?
I glanced at the clock. 3:07 PM.
And there she was.
Rin sat by the window, bathed in golden light, flipping slowly through a book. Her fingers stilled mid-page. Her eyes drifted,not to the book, but beyond it. Out the window. Blank. Detached.
Like she wasn't here.
I approached slowly, not wanting to startle her. She didn't move. Didn't blink. Just sat still as stone.
"Rin?" I whispered.
She turned her head, eyes clearing like fog burning off glass.
"Eliah," she said, the name foreign and familiar in her voice.
Then she blinked again, and it was gone.
The wall returned.
She stood, closed her book, and walked out as though nothing had happened.
That night, I couldn't sleep. The journal sat open in front of me, the ink from the latest note still drying.
"I remember stars. I remember falling. I remember you.But only when it's quiet."
I scribbled beneath it: *Who's doing this? Who's erasing you?*
Nothing. Just empty space.
But then,on the edge of the page,ink began to appear. Slowly, as if someone were writing from the other side of time.
"Not who. What."
I froze. My breath caught in my throat.
"This world. It's not ours. We weren't supposed to land here."
Land? I wrote. Then where were we supposed to go?
No answer.
But something in my chest shifted. A memory trying to resurface.
A flash of falling. A crack of light. Her voice calling my name as our fingers slipped aparThe next day in class, the teacher called Rin to the board.
She hesitated, confused for a second, like she didn't know where she was. Then, with a blink, she collected herself and walked forward.She answered the question easily. Perfectly. But her voice was too steady. Her posture too stiff.
I knew that look.
She was fighting something.
And losing.
After class, I waited by her locker. She walked past me at first,but then stopped.
"Eliah," she said again, quiet. Almost a whisper.
"Yes?"
She looked like she wanted to say something,her mouth opened, then closed. Her fingers clutched the strap of her bag.
"There's something about you that makes me… forget less."
That was all she said.
But it was enough.
Later that night, I dreamed again.
Not of this world,but of the one before.
Of the plane. Of her fingers in mine. Of stars outside the window as we fell.
And then something new.
A white room.
A voice.
"Let them reincarnate. But split the memory."
"One system. One anchor."
"Let's see what love survives in absence."
I woke up gasping, tears on my cheeks.
I wasn't imagining this. We were part of something. An experiment? A punishment?
A test?The system remained quiet, but the journal was different. Each day, it filled with snippets. Moments. Feelings.
"You liked cherry soda and sang when you cleaned."
"You kissed me first. I said it back second."
"Please find me before they turn me into someone I'm not."
I'd begun to write back like clockwork. It felt less like journaling and more like passing notes to a version of Rin that was trapped somewhere just out of reach.
And maybe… maybe the real Rin was starting to read them too.
Because on Monday morning, I found something in my locker.
A cherry soda.
And a sticky note.
"One memory at a time".