SIA POV :
The first thing I noticed was the silence.
Not the quiet kind — the kind that presses into your ears, thick and uncomfortable, like something is missing and you can't name what it is.
"Sia!"
My mother's voice came from downstairs, warm and familiar. "You're going to be late for class!"
I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head.
"I'm up," I called back, though I absolutely wasn't.
Eventually, I forced myself out of bed and padded across my room. Everything looked normal. Too normal.
The pale sunlight filtered through my curtains. My posters were crooked like always. My bookshelf was still overcrowded with half-read novels and notebooks I swore I'd organize someday.
And yet…
Something felt wrong.
Not scary.
Just… off.
Like waking from a dream you almost
remember — but the pieces slip away the moment you try to hold them.
I brushed my hair, grabbed my backpack, and turned toward my desk.
That's when I saw it.
My laptop was open.
That alone wasn't strange — I often forgot to shut it down. But what was strange was the document glowing on the screen.
A novel.
Not just any novel.
My novel.
Except… I didn't remember writing it.
The title stared back at me:
Across the Veil
My stomach tightened.
I frowned, stepping closer. "I don't remember this," I murmured.
The cursor blinked patiently beneath a paragraph.
I began to read.
The Veil shattered the night he crossed into her world.
He wasn't meant to exist there. Neither was the storm that followed him.
But fate doesn't ask for permission.
My heart skipped.
I scrolled.
More words appeared — whole scenes, whole chapters — filled with names that felt both foreign and… painfully familiar.
Kai.
Lyra.
Stormbearer.
The Veil.
The Hollow.
My hands began to tremble.
"This isn't… mine," I whispered. "Is it?"
But it felt like mine.
The tone. The voice. The rhythm of the sentences.
It sounded like me.
But I didn't remember writing any of it.
I scrolled faster.
Scenes unfolded — ruins, shadows, glowing light, worlds colliding — and then…
Her.
A girl.
An author.
Trapped inside her own story.
My breath caught.
"No," I whispered. "That's not possible."
My phone buzzed on my desk, breaking my focus. A notification from my writing app.
Draft saved — 22 chapters uploaded.
Uploaded?
My heart slammed.
I opened the app.
There it was.
Across the Veil
Genre: Fantasy | Romance | Dark
Status: Ongoing
Views: 142,000
Likes: 17,000
Comments: Thousands.
I stared at the screen.
"I don't remember uploading this," I whispered. "I don't remember writing this."
But the account was mine.
The profile photo was mine.
The author name was mine.
Everything said this was my story.
And yet…
It felt like reading someone else's memories.
My phone buzzed again.
A message from my best friend, Jenna:
Jenna: Girl, your novel is getting insane 😭🔥 Are you okay after that last chapter??
I typed slowly.
Me: What last chapter?
Three dots appeared. Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Jenna: Sia… are you joking?
Me: No. I don't remember writing it.
A pause.
Then:
Jenna: Okay, that's not funny. You literally posted it last night.
I swallowed.
"I was asleep," I whispered aloud.
I scrolled back to the latest chapter.
Chapter 23: The World Without Her — Kai POV
My heart stuttered.
Kai.
The name hit me like a bruise I didn't know I had.
It hurt — not sharply, but deeply — like a wound healed wrong.
I opened the chapter.
As I read, my chest tightened.
A man searching for a girl across worlds.
A storm-bearer who refused to forget.
A love that didn't fade — even when memory did.
By the time I reached the end, my hands were shaking.
"This feels… real," I whispered. "Too real."
Not like fiction.
Like history.
Like something that already happened.
I shut the laptop suddenly, my breath uneven
"No," I said. "This is just a story. Just
imagination."
But the feeling wouldn't go away.
That ache.
That pull.
That strange sense of absence — like someone had been ripped out of my life, and my heart still hadn't been told.
I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs, trying to shake it off.
My mom was in the kitchen, flipping
pancakes. "Morning, sweetheart."
"Morning," I said automatically, then hesitated. "Mom… did I… write anything last night?"
She smiled. "You're always writing, honey.
You stayed up pretty late too."
I frowned. "Did I say anything strange?"
She paused. "Strange how?"
"I don't know. About dreams. Or… stories."
She shook her head gently. "No. You just came down for water around midnight.
That's it."
So I wrote it.
I just… didn't remember.
At college, nothing helped.
Not my lectures.
Not my coffee.
Not my friends.
Everywhere I went, something felt slightly misaligned — like my life had shifted half an inch out of place.
I sat in the library between classes and reopened my laptop.
I scrolled to the beginning.
The very first chapter.
I read slowly this time.
Not as a reader.
As a… witness.
And the more I read, the more something inside me stirred.
Not memory.
But recognition.
Like my soul remembered what my mind didn't.
I reached the scene where the author entered her own world.
My breath hitched.
"She's… me," I whispered.
Not logically.
Not rationally.
Emotionally.
Instinctively.
Terrifyingly.
"No," I said softly. "That's impossible."
But my hands were cold.
My chest felt tight.
And my eyes burned with unshed tears — for reasons I couldn't explain.
Then I noticed something else.
A folder on my desktop.
Veil Files.
I frowned.
I opened it.
Inside were dozens of documents — timelines, world maps, character profiles — detailed in ways I never planned for.
One file stood out.
KAI.txt
My pulse spiked.
I opened it.
Kai — Stormbearer. Protector of the Veil. Not meant to exist in her world. Not meant to love her. But does anyway.
He remembers when she forgets.
He waits when she leaves.
He crosses worlds when she doesn't know she's gone.
He is the constant.
My vision blurred.
"I don't remember writing this," I whispered. "But… why does it feel like someone wrote me?"
Like someone wrote my heart.
Like someone knew me.
I shut the laptop, pressing my palms against it.
"This is just fiction," I said firmly. "Just my imagination. Just stress."
But deep down…
I knew.
This wasn't just a story.
It was a memory.
Not mine.
But someone else's.
Someone who was still out there.
Looking for me.
And I didn't know his name.
But somehow…
My heart did.