Morning came, but it didn't feel new. She hadn't slept. The silence from last night still hung in the air, quiet but heavy. Her phone lay beside her, showing no messages. No proof. For a moment, she almost believed it was all in her mind. Almost.
She stepped outside. The world moved along as usual. People talked, laughed, and passed by, unaware of anything wrong. It felt distant, as if she didn't belong to it. Her steps slowed. She didn't realize when she stopped, but she did. A familiar place. Not obvious—just a turn in the road. Still, her chest tightened. Her fingers curled slightly, like they remembered something she didn't.
A faint image crossed her mind: rain. That was all. Just rain. She turned away quickly, too quickly. "I'm overthinking," she whispered and walked faster.
Back in her room, the air felt the same—still and watchful. She dropped her bag and sat down, trying not to think. Trying not to remember something she couldn't fully grasp. Her eyes shifted and then stopped. There, near the corner, was something small. She was sure it hadn't been there before.
She stood slowly, each step careful and uncertain. She bent down and picked it up. Cold. Familiar. Her breath caught, not because she understood it but because some part of her already did. She didn't say anything this time. She didn't deny it or run. She just stood there holding proof that something had been left behind.