Before she could type it out, the phone vibrated again.
"I'm the man from your dreams. The one who's been haunting you. You know me. You just have to remember."
Amara blinked, her fingers trembling as they held the phone. The words blurred for a moment, but she read them again, more slowly this time. The man from your dreams.
The one she couldn't stop thinking about. The one whose face had somehow etched itself into her memory, even though she had never seen him in real life.
Her mind reeled. Was this some kind of sick game? Was someone playing with her? Or—was it real? The storm. The lightning. The man. It was all connected.
She couldn't stand it anymore.
Amara sat up in bed, breathing a little too fast, her fingers gripping the phone harder. She typed, her thoughts rushing, desperate.
"What do you want from me?"
The response came quickly.
"I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to help you remember who you really are. And what we are to each other."
A lump formed in Amara's throat. Help her remember? What did he mean by that? She couldn't even remember who he was, let alone what they could possibly be to each other.
Her mind raced as images flickered behind her closed eyes. A flash of violet eyes. The warmth of his hand, so real it almost felt like a memory. The pulse of something deep inside her, a pull that told her she was meant to know him.
But how?
Amara jumped as her phone buzzed again. This time, the message was different.
"I'm coming for you, Amara. You can't hide from me forever."
Her breath hitched in her chest. Her heart pounded harder now, like it wanted to break free from her ribcage. She wanted to throw the phone across the room. But she didn't. She couldn't.
What did this mean? Was this a threat? A warning? Or something more?
The phone buzzed once more before going silent.
Her fingers shook as she dropped the phone beside her on the bed. Her thoughts spiraled. She had to do something. She couldn't just sit here.
The next morning Amara stood at her apartment door, her coat draped over her shoulders, her bag in hand. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she needed to get out of the apartment. The walls felt too close, the silence too deafening.
She had to figure this out.
And she needed answers.
Her hand paused on the door handle. Should she go to Mr. Talbot? Should she tell him about the text messages, about the strange feeling gnawing at her from the inside out? Maybe. But there was something about him—something that made her hesitant to involve him. She didn't know why, but there was a nagging sense that he wasn't someone she could trust with this.
Her mind turned to the man in her dreams. The one who knew things about her—things no stranger should know.
She had no choice. She couldn't stay locked away in the comfort of her apartment, hiding from the truth.
With a deep breath, she stepped out into the cold air, making her way down the stairs, her steps slow but purposeful. She didn't know where she was going. She didn't even know if she'd find anything—any clue to this bizarre, overwhelming mystery. But one thing was certain: she had to find him. The man with the violet eyes. The man from her dreams.
She had to find out what was real.
Amara arrived at the cafe where she and Mr. Talbot were to meet. The familiar scent of roasted coffee beans greeted her, a comfort in the midst of the chaos inside her.
She sat at a table by the window, her mind still racing. The strange feeling that she was being watched swept over her again, but when she looked up, she saw nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary.
The door opened, and a cold gust of wind blew in. Amara turned toward it instinctively, only to find herself staring directly into the eyes of the one person she least expected to see.
The man from her dreams.
His violet eyes locked with hers as though he'd been waiting for this moment. Waiting for her to find him.
She didn't move. She couldn't. All the air left her lungs, and she was rooted to the spot, her heart slamming in her chest.
And then, he spoke, his voice low, familiar—like a memory she couldn't quite place.
"It's time, Amara," he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Time for you to remember."