Juliet's eyes slowly flickered open. Her vision sharpened into a strange ceiling, and the sharp scent of antiseptics filled her nose.
"Where… am I?" she whispered, scanning the room — until her eyes stopped on a familiar figure.
"Oh, so you finally wake up," the figure said.
That voice — she knew it too well.
"Mom?!" Julie gasped, jolting upright. "What are you… I mean — what are we doing here?"
"You actually get the guts to ask me that?" the woman scoffed, marching closer. "This girl… shebi you wan put me for trouble abi?"
"I sent you to the market to buy foodstuffs, and you went there to go and faint, eh?" she continued, voice dripping with irritation.
Just then, the curse activated again.
A sudden rush of disappointment.
An undercurrent of bottomless anger.
None of it belonged to Julie — she knew instantly.
Those emotions were her mother's.
But this time… it didn't feel like being stabbed in the head.
It pressed against her mind like a heavy weight — painful, but bearable.
(Is it because it's just one person…? It doesn't hurt as much.)
Her eyes shifted to the woman before her, and sadness tightened her chest.
(Why would a mother — or even a sister — feel that way about me?)
"You know what?" the woman said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Just get up, let's go home. You get luck say person don pay the hospital bill — because I no get shishi wey I go give doctors."
She turned and walked out.
Julie quietly sat up.
(Oh right… I fainted at the market. Someone must have taken me to the hospital… and paid the bills.)
She stood, walked toward the window — the sun was already rising. Sunday morning.
(Whoever you are… thank you for bringing me here.)
The hospital wasn't far from their house, so they walked home — her mother leading, Julie silently following behind.
The walk was agony.
Whenever someone passed her — or she passed a group — their raw emotions stabbed into her mind. A splash of anxiety here. A flicker of joy there. A wave of frustration — a shout of humiliation — a shadow of grief.
A storm of hearts.
And only she could hear it.
But in that chaos… she learned something.
If she focused on one person — everyone else's emotions dimmed.
Still painful… but manageable.
Little by little, she was adapting.
The rest of Sunday continued as usual on the surface — chores, cooking, the routine everyone else called "normal life."
But for the two dreamers… nothing was normal anymore.
Julie fought to survive the storm of emotions inside her.
Kevin battled the visions haunting him — and the fear of what might happen to Nazy.
Blessing or curse — nobody knew.
By Monday morning, both of them left for school — each in different states.
Kevin in Anambra.
Juliet in Ibadan.
And though they were far apart…
The consequences of the dream were only just beginning.
Julie sat alone at her desk, staring at nothing in particular, her thoughts tangled in a hundred directions as she struggled to understand the world she now lived in.
(What is really happening to me…? Why can I suddenly hear — no, feel — everyone's emotions?)
She pressed her hands against her jaw.
(Is this happening because of the dream… or because I tried to change the future? A curse… or punishment, maybe?)
"Does that mean the future isn't supposed to be changed?" she murmured, voice low but firm. "Then what's the point of knowing what will happen if you can't change it for the better? It doesn't—"
Her sentence froze mid-air.
A wave hit her.
Violent.
Burning.
Overwhelming.
Hatred.
Not frustration.
Not annoyance.
Not dislike.
Pure, sharp, venomous hatred — heavier than anything she had ever felt in her life.
And the worst part?
It was aimed at her.
Julie's entire body stiffened.
Her heartbeat stumbled.
(Who…? Who could possibly hate me this much? What did I do? Why does someone feel this way toward me—?)
She slowly raised her head.
And there she was.
A familiar figure.
A familiar face.
A familiar voice — now laced with poison.
"Here's your book. The teacher asked me to give it to you."
The words were sharp.
The tone was venom.
Julie finally took in her presence, and the pieces clicked painfully into place.
It was Miracle.
Her friend.
Or… her former friend.
Suddenly, the hatred made sense.
Too much sense.
"A witch will always give birth to a little witch," Miracle hissed, eyes cold, voice soaked in contempt.
Julie didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't defend herself.
She simply watched Miracle walk away…
…and felt something inside her quietly break.
The girl who once laughed with her, shared secrets with her, protected her…
was now a source of hatred so intense it crushed her mind.
Guilt.
Regret.
Remorse.
They churned inside her like a storm.
But deep down, Julie knew the truth — this wasn't something an apology could fix. Miracle's hatred had already crossed the line. It had become something else entirely.
Something irreversible.
(If I can't change her fate…)
Julie closed her eyes, trembling slightly as the weight of her new reality pressed down on her.
(…then I might as well focus on changing something else.)
Caught between cause and effect…
between the dream and the waking world…
she took a deep breath.
Because the consequences were already unfolding.
And she wasn't ready.
– To Be Continued.