The impact knocked her balance off. Her books slipped from her hands, scattering across the floor in a messy pile.
"I'm so sorry!" she said quickly, dropping to her knees.
She reached for her books—
But another hand reached them first.
Long fingers. Steady.
He picked up one of her notebooks, brushing off the dust before handing it to her.
"…You should watch where you're going."
His voice was low.
Calm.
But something about it—
Something about it made her freeze.
Ayla slowly looked up.
And the moment their eyes met—
Her world tilted.
It wasn't dramatic.
There were no fireworks. No sudden sound.
Just—
Silence.
Like everything inside her had stopped at once.
The boy standing in front of her was tall, his dark hair slightly messy like he didn't care enough to fix it properly. His expression was neutral, almost distant—but his eyes…
His eyes were locked onto hers in a way that didn't feel normal.
It felt like recognition.
Like shock.
Like pain.
"…Do I know you?" he asked.
The question was simple.
But the way he said it—
Like he was hoping the answer was yes—
Made her chest tighten painfully.
"I… don't think so," Ayla replied, her voice quieter than she expected.
Something flickered in his expression.
Disappointment?
No… something deeper.
He studied her face carefully. Too carefully.
Like he was trying to find something hidden beneath her skin.
"…That's strange," he murmured.
Ayla swallowed.
Why was he looking at her like that?
Why did it feel like she was the one being remembered?
Then—
He said it.
So softly she almost thought she imagined it.
"…Lena?"
Her breath caught.
That name.
That same name.
Her fingers trembled slightly around her notebook.
"Sorry," he added quickly, though he didn't look sorry at all. "You just… look like someone I used to know."
Used to.
Past tense.
Something about that made her chest ache again.
"I think you've mistaken me for someone else," she said, forcing a small, polite smile.
She stood up quickly, clutching her books to her chest like a shield.
She needed to leave.
Now.
Because the longer she stood there…
The more that strange, overwhelming feeling grew inside her.
Like something was trying to break through.
"I should go," she added.
He didn't stop her.
But he didn't move either.
Ayla turned and walked away, her steps faster than usual, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.
She didn't look back.
She didn't dare.
But behind her—
He was still standing there.
Still watching.
Still trying to understand something that didn't make sense.
"…It's not possible," he whispered to himself.
And yet…
For the first time in a long time—
His heart wouldn't stay calm.
Later that day, Ayla sat quietly at her desk, staring at the page in front of her.
She hadn't written a single word.
Her mind kept replaying the moment.
His eyes.
That name.
Lena.
Why did it feel so familiar?
Why did it feel like…
Home?
She clenched her pen tighter.
"No," she muttered under her breath. "I'm overthinking."
It had to be coincidence.
It had to be.
Right?
The classroom door slid open.
And suddenly—
The air changed.
Students straightened slightly. Whispers spread like wildfire.
"He's here…"
"Noah Blake…"
Ayla's fingers froze.
Noah.
That name.
Her heart skipped.
Slowly—hesitantly—she looked up.
And there he was.
The same boy from earlier.
Walking into her class like he owned the silence itself.
Noah Blake.
He didn't look around.
Didn't acknowledge anyone.
Until—
His gaze landed on her.
And stopped.
Completely.
The room faded again.
Just like before.
And this time…
He didn't look confused.
He looked certain.
He walked straight toward her.
Step by step.
Until he reached the empty seat beside her.
And sat down.
Without asking.
Without hesitation.
Ayla's pulse raced.
"…You're in this class?" she asked, trying to sound normal.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he leaned slightly closer.
Close enough that she could feel the faint warmth of his presence.
Close enough to make her heart lose control.
"You still didn't answer my question," he said quietly.
Her grip tightened around her pen.
"What question?"
His eyes darkened slightly.
"Why do you look exactly like her?"
Ayla turned to face him fully now.
"Like who?"
There was a pause.
A long one.
And then—
He said her name again.
But this time…
It didn't sound like a question.
"…Lena."
Ayla's chest tightened so suddenly it almost hurt to breathe.
And for a split second—
She saw something.
Not clearly.
Just a flash.
A smile.
A field.
A hand intertwined with hers.
And his voice—
Soft.
Loving.
"Lena…"
Her vision snapped back.
Her heart was racing.
Too fast.
Too loud.
"I'm not her," she said quickly, her voice shaking just slightly.
But Noah didn't look convinced.
In fact…
He looked like he was falling deeper into something dangerous.
"…That's what scares me," he whispered.