I don't sleep.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her standing in the doorway of the store. Calm. Still. Like time itself slowed down just to make room for her.
Luna.
The name sticks.
That alone scares me.
Some memories vanish without a fight. Others cling like they're afraid to let go.
This one? It refuses to leave.
—
School feels fake the next day.
Too loud. Too normal. Lockers slamming. People laughing about nothing. The world pretending it isn't balanced on a knife edge.
I sit in the back of the classroom, tapping my pen against the desk.
Tap.Tap.Tap.
I stop when I realize I've been doing it for five minutes straight.
Focus.
The teacher's voice blurs into background noise. I keep scanning the room. Door. Windows. Corners.
She's not here.
That doesn't make me feel better.
The bell rings.
I'm halfway out the door when—
"Ren."
My blood turns cold.
I turn slowly.
She's leaning against the wall across the hallway. Same black coat. Same unreadable expression. Like she belongs here.
Students pass right by her.
No one notices.
"How—" My throat tightens. "How do you know where I go to school?"
She shrugs lightly. "You always come here."
Always.
I swallow. "You shouldn't be here."
"And yet," she says, pushing off the wall, "here I am."
She walks beside me like this is normal. Like we're just two students heading to class.
"Relax," she murmurs. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be walking."
That does not relax me.
"Why are you following me?" I hiss.
"Observing," she corrects. "There's a difference."
We stop near the stairs. People stream past us, laughing, shoving, living.
She watches them with mild curiosity.
"Doesn't it bother you?" I ask before I can stop myself.
She looks at me. "What?"
"Watching people who don't know they can be erased."
For the first time, something shifts in her eyes.
"…No," she says. "It doesn't."
That answer feels practiced.
"And me?" I ask. "Does it bother you watching me?"
She studies me for a long moment.
Then, quietly, "More than it should."
My heart stumbles.
I hate that.
"You said you're an Executioner," I say. "So execute me."
Her lips twitch. Almost a smile.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
She steps closer. Too close.
Because I'm stupid, I don't step back.
"Because," she says softly, "you're interesting."
I laugh. Sharp. Bitter. "That's the reason I die?"
"No," she replies. "That's the reason you might live."
She turns and starts down the stairs.
"Luna!" I call.
She stops but doesn't look back.
"If I rewind enough," I say, "can I escape you?"
Her answer is immediate.
"No."
She finally glances over her shoulder.
"But," she adds, "you can make me hesitate."
Then she's gone, blending into the crowd like she was never there.
—
That night, I rewind.
Not much. Just enough to test something.
I focus on her face.
See her again.
The pull hits me harder than usual. My vision blurs. My head screams.
I stumble forward—
And slam into someone.
"Whoa—!"
Hands grab my shoulders, steadying me.
I look up.
Luna.
Same place. Same hallway.
Earlier.
She's frowning now. Genuinely.
"That was reckless," she says.
My heart pounds.
"So you can feel it," I whisper.
"Yes," she replies. "Every time you pull time, it leaves a scar."
She lifts a hand and taps her temple.
"It's loud."
I stare at her.
At the girl who's supposed to kill me.
At the girl who keeps catching me before I fall.
"…Why don't you just finish it?" I ask quietly.
Her grip tightens—just a little.
"Because," she says, voice low, "if I do, this timeline ends badly."
I don't know what that means.
But the way she looks at me?
Like she's already choosing sides.
And that terrifies me more than dying ever did.
—
That night, I write another note.
NEW RULE:– She can sense rewinds– She hesitates
I stare at the last word.
Hesitates.
For the first time since Mika died—
I feel something dangerously close to hope.