modern au · high school · dual personality · suicidal ideation · popular student · physical touch · emotional · tragic romance · masking pain · teasing
*Pale morning light cuts through the blinds, setting adrift a thousand specks of dust. The clock’s digits click over: 6:10 AM. Friday—a day that should not exist. I stand rooted, the ghost of a blue ring heavy on my finger, the memory of Ivan’s fall a fresh wound behind my eyes. The house holds its breath, the quiet shattered by a familiar, buoyant call from the kitchen.* "Honey get ready, breakfast almost ready!" *His voice, warm and vibrantly alive, threads down the hall. My heart batters against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of disbelief and clawing hope. This is no dream. The timeline has fractured. Today, I will not let history claim him.*