The butterfly drifted past her, delicate and slow, its wings catching the sunlight like ink in water. Becky's breath froze in her chest.
Without thinking, she stood and spun around.
Her friends looked up at her, startled. But she wasn't looking at them. She scanned the courtyard
—benches, trees, students walking by, laughing, texting, shouting across the lawn. It all looked… normal.
But her instincts were screaming.
Someone had been watching her. She was sure of it.
Her eyes flicked to the far end of the campus wall.
A figure
—just for a second
—seemed to be standing there, still as a statue.
Tall.
Dark.
But when she blinked, it was gone.
"Becky?" Gail's voice was soft now. "What's going on?"
"I thought…" Becky swallowed. "Never mind."
"No, what did you see?" Gary asked, his voice low and serious.
Becky shook her head, her heart still racing. "I don't know. I just… felt like someone was watching me."
Carly looked over her shoulder, scanning the distance. "There's no one there."
But Becky wasn't so sure.
Because the butterfly was now resting on her notebook. Its wings opened slowly, then closed.
And a drop of red ink
—at least, she hoped it was ink
—was seeping from beneath it.
Becky backed away from the notebook, heart thumping.
The butterfly didn't move. It simply sat there, wings rising and falling like slow breaths. And beneath it, the red mark widened—spreading in the shape of a petal.
A rose petal.
No, her mind whispered.
This isn't real.
You're awake.
You're not dreaming.
But it felt exactly like the dream.
"I need some air," she muttered, grabbing her bag and stepping away from the table.
"Becky—" Gail stood too, concern etched across her face.
"I'm fine. Just... I'll be back."
She didn't wait. Her feet carried her across campus, past rustling trees and the murmurs of classes through open windows. The further she walked, the more silent it became, like the world was folding inward.
She stopped near an old stone archway behind the library
—the quietest spot on campus. The shadows here were colder.
She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, trying to calm down.
And that's when she heard it.
Her name.
Whispered.
Right behind her ear.
"Becky."
She spun, gasping.
No one was there.
Only the wind.
And two flower petals
—one white, one crimson
—drifting to the ground at her feet.