(Michelle Lui's POV)
I woke up with sunlight spilling softly across the ceiling, warm and pale — the kind that usually promises a calm morning.
Except nothing inside me was calm.
Not after yesterday.
Not after the forest.
Not after the tension so thick it practically had mass.
I lay there, staring upward, one hand flat on my chest.
There it was.
That feeling again.
The pull.
Not romantic.
Not some cliché swoon moment.
Not the ridiculous "three boys like me" chaos Vince would make memes about.
It was different.
Deep.
Strange.
Wrong and right at the same time.
Like… a memory that wasn't mine.
A familiarity that shouldn't exist.
A thread that shouldn't connect.
Yet it tugged faintly every time I thought of—
Him.
Steven.
Not because I liked him.
I didn't.
I couldn't.
He had Lara.
He had a whole life.
But the pull wasn't about liking.
It was about knowing.
About remembering things he didn't.
