Borrowed Pulse

It was late. The kind of late where the whole world felt too quiet. Eddie sat on the edge of his bed, back hunched, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it had answers. He hadn't turned the lights on—just let the orange streetlamp glow pour in through the half-open blinds, cutting across the walls like slashes. His mind was spiraling. Thoughts of Maya—her laugh, her scars, her stupidly hopeful smile—refused to leave him alone.

There was a knock, followed by the creak of his door swinging open. He didn't look up. He didn't have to.

"So," came Damon's voice, dry and cutting as ever, "did you tell her?"

Eddie didn't answer right away. He just exhaled, slow and shaky.

"That's a no, then."

"I can't," Eddie muttered. "Not yet."

Damon stepped into the room and leaned against the doorframe. "You think this is gonna get easier if you wait? Newsflash—it won't. She's not stupid, Eddie. She's gonna figure it out eventually."

Eddie finally looked up, eyes shadowed and bloodshot. "You think I don't know that?"

"I think you're scared." Damon crossed his arms. "You're scared she's gonna see you for what you did. For what you are."

Eddie stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "It wasn't supposed to go this far."

"Yeah, well, it did. You played with fire, man. You lit the whole damn forest on fire and now you're crying about the smoke."

His fists clenched at his sides. "You don't understand."

Damon scoffed. "I told you from the start, you didn't have to go through with this. But you did. You made it personal. You got close. You started screwing around with her life and now what? You think you get to back out without consequences?"

Eddie looked like he wanted to punch something. Or cry. Or both. But he didn't say anything. Just turned his back to Damon and stared out the window like it could swallow him whole.

Damon shook his head. "Keep lying if you want. Just don't act surprised when the whole thing blows up in your face."

The door closed behind him.

Eddie didn't sleep for a long time. When he finally did, it hit him like a truck.

The dream came in flashes.

Headlights. Rain. Screeching tires.

He was behind the wheel. The car was spinning, metal groaning, glass shattering. He tried to grip the steering wheel, but his hands were soaked in something—blood, water, something red and sticky.

In the passenger seat, Maya turned to him, her face pale, eyes wide.

"Eddie—" her voice trembled, barely louder than the chaos outside.

Then everything went black.

He jolted awake with a gasp, heart pounding like it was trying to tear through his chest. Sweat clung to his skin. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. Then the shadows of his room came into focus, and the nightmare retreated like a wave dragging back into the ocean.

He sat there for a long time, just breathing. His phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Maya lit up the screen.

"My parents are planning a little party thing. You coming?"

His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He typed, erased, typed again. Finally, he just sent:

"Yeah. Wouldn't miss it."

A few days later, the Sinclair house was buzzing. Fairy lights blinked across the backyard. The air smelled like cake and grilled food and a second chance. Maya stood at the center of it all, soft in a pale dress, hair pulled back, bruises faded but not gone.

Eddie watched her from a distance, his hands stuffed in his pockets. She was laughing at something Zeke said, flanked by Sally and Luna like her own personal chaos squad. She looked okay. Or at least like she was trying to be.

Mr. Sinclair tapped a glass with a fork and cleared his throat. The crowd hushed.

He turned to his wife, and in front of everyone, dropped to one knee.

"I screwed up," he said simply, "but I want to do this right. I want to marry you again. For real, this time."

Gasps and claps followed. Mrs. Sinclair was crying before she even said yes. Maya looked surprised—and for a second, Eddie swore she was crying, too.

He took a step forward, about to join her, when something in his stomach twisted. That damn dream wouldn't let go.

A couple days later, Maya, Sally, and Luna were walking through the mall, arms full of iced coffees and gossip. Maya was just starting to feel like things were normal again. Like maybe she could breathe.

Then it happened.

A woman—maybe in her forties—appeared out of nowhere. Her eyes locked on Maya like she'd seen a ghost.

"Sammy?"

Maya blinked. "Uh… sorry?"

The woman didn't wait. She pulled Maya into a hug, tight and trembling.

"Oh my god. You look just like her."

Maya gently pulled away, confused and slightly alarmed. "I think you've got the wrong person. My name's Maya."

The woman stared at her like she didn't believe it. Her voice cracked. "You feel so… warm. Just like her."

"Who?"

"My daughter. She died two years ago."

Maya froze.

Luna glanced at her awkwardly, while Sally shifted her weight uncomfortably.

The woman quickly wiped her tears and smiled, apologetic. "Sorry. You probably think I'm insane. You just—you reminded me of her. So much."

They ended up sitting at a little coffee shop. The woman asked about school, and Maya told her it was her last year before graduation. She nodded along, watching her too closely.

Maya's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, smiling. "It's my boyfriend."

The woman tilted her head. "Is that him? Eddie?"

Maya's eyes narrowed a bit, confused. "Yeah… how did you know?"

Before the woman could answer, Eddie appeared behind her.

He froze.

So did the woman.

She stood slowly. "Eddie?"

Maya looked between them, heart dropping. "Wait… do you two know each other?"

The silence that followed was too loud.

Eddie's face said everything and nothing at the same time.

Maya's stomach turned.

The coffee suddenly didn't taste right.