Was She Here All Along?

I stared at the photograph, my hand trembling slightly as I turned it over again, studying the torn edge. My chest tightened, and a pit formed in my stomach. 

This boy—Chase—was me. I didn't just know it; I felt it in a way I couldn't explain. And yet, staring at the photograph, there was no spark of memory, no flicker of recognition to anchor me to this image. 

The sight of Chloe—me, but not really me—standing in that group of kids was jarring enough. But realizing I was also standing there, as Chase, just outside the torn edge of the photo? It was like staring at two versions of myself and knowing neither of them fully belonged to me.

I pushed the discomfort aside and tried to focus on the others in the picture. There was Noah, his lopsided grin and unruly hair exactly the same, even as a kid. 

Of course, he looked the same—he probably came into the world smirking like that. What a big difference to how cold he was to me now, I thought bitterly as I scanned his youthful face. Yup, that's him, alright. The same kid that befriended me all those years ago when I came here. 

And then there was Lily, standing beside Chloe with a hand on her shoulder, her expression carefree and bright, like this moment had been the happiest of her life. The same Lily that, as Chase, I could only admire from afar. 

We…knew each other as kids? My head throbbed with confusion. How could I not remember a girl like her before high school? 

The other kids, Rachel and Sam, were vaguely familiar in that déjà vu kind of way, but it was the boy on the edge—the one erased from the scene—that kept pulling my attention. 

There was no doubt about it. I knew that red hoodie and those jeans. It was me. 

I sighed loudly and ran my hand through my hair. How could I not remember? How could I have been there and not have a single memory of it? My entire childhood as Chase, the life I apparently lived before becoming Chloe, felt like it had been wiped clean.

"Chloe?"

I jumped, nearly dropping the photograph as my mom's voice sliced through the silence. She was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, a curious expression on her face. "What are you doing with those old photos?"

I scrambled to shove the picture back into the box, my movements clumsy and guilty. "Oh, nothing. Just, uh, looking at some old stuff." My voice cracked slightly, and I winced at how unconvincing I sounded.

Her eyes flicked to the photo still in my hand. "That's from when you were a kid, isn't it?"

I froze, unsure how to respond. Did she know? Was this one of those moments where a parent casually drops a bombshell on you, acting like it's no big deal?

"Yeah," I said finally, trying to keep my tone light. "Just, you know, reminiscing."

Her expression softened, but there was something guarded about her posture, something almost... hesitant. "That's nice," she said, stepping closer. "You always loved hanging out with those kids. You were inseparable."

I forced a smile, my heart pounding. "Right. Good times."

Her gaze lingered on me, and for a moment, I thought she might press further. But then she nodded and backed away. "Well, don't stay up too late," she said over her shoulder as she left the room.

The second she was gone, I let out a shaky breath and glanced back at the photograph. Something about the way she'd looked at me, the way she'd mentioned those kids, didn't sit right. It was like she knew something she wasn't saying.

I stared at the torn edge of the photo again, my fingers tracing it absently. The boy in the red hoodie—Chase, my true self—wasn't just erased from the picture. He was erased from my memory, from my entire existence. All seventeen years of it.

And yet, he was me.

I turned the photo over, rereading the names on the back as if they might rearrange themselves into answers. Lily's name caught my eye, and a flicker of determination replaced the unease in my chest. Lily had been there. She'd known Chase—known me—and maybe, just maybe, she knew why I couldn't remember any of it.

When my phone buzzed on the desk, I snatched it up, half-expecting some cosmic sign to appear on the screen. Instead, it was a text from Lily.

Hey, wanna meet up after school tomorrow? We can work on that history project together. My treat—cafés are better than libraries anyway.

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. This was it—my chance to dig deeper, to find out what Lily knew about the summer in that photograph. About Chase. About me.

Sure. Meet you after last period.

I hit send and set my phone down, glancing back at the photo one last time before sliding it into my desk drawer. Tomorrow, I'll get answers. Or at least, I'd try.

I tossed and turned that night, sleep constantly evading me. And as I watched the sun rise from my bedroom windows, I wished for more than anything to go back to that house party before I got into my car, just so that I could forget all of this ever happened. 

The café was small but warm, the kind of place where the scent of freshly ground coffee mingled with the faint aroma of cinnamon and chocolate. 

Mismatched chairs surrounded small wooden tables, and the walls were lined with shelves of well-worn books and quirky knick-knacks. Soft jazz played overhead, blending with the low hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine.

Lily was already there when I arrived, seated in a corner by the window. The sunlight poured in, catching on the pale strands of her blond hair, which she'd loosely pinned back with a clip, a few wisps framing her face. Her notebooks and pens were spread out across the table in a way that was both chaotic and oddly neat.

She glanced up as I approached, her expression brightening into a warm, easy smile that tugged at something deep in my chest. "Hey! Grab a seat. I already ordered us drinks—iced lattes. I hope that's okay."

I slid into the chair across from her, trying to ignore the sudden weight in my chest. "Thanks. You didn't have to."

"It's no big deal," she said with a shrug, leaning back in her seat. "Besides, we've got a ton to get through if we want to survive Mr. Barlow's history quiz." She gestured to the colorful mess of notes in front of her.

I nodded, though my attention was far from history. It was hard to focus when Lily was right there, her head tilted slightly as she scanned her notes, the golden light framing her like a portrait.

Man, I thought to myself as I watched her. As Chase, I knew I could have flirted with her if I wanted, but for some reason she wasn't that cool girl like the ones I met at the park. 

I wasn't head over heels over her but…I felt my cheeks burn before I could stop myself. If I was still Chase right now, this could be the closest I'd have to a date with her. I blinked my eyes hard to refocus as I noticed something. 

Even as she smiled and chatted, there was something about her that felt… guarded. The way she kept glancing at her phone or the window, as if she was keeping an eye on the clock. The way her laugh came just a fraction too quickly, like she was trying to keep things light. She was being friendly, no doubt about it, but there was a wall there. Was it always there? 

"So," I said, trying to sound casual, "do you ever think about when we were kids? Like, back in elementary school?"

Lily's pen paused mid-scribble, and she looked up, her pale eyebrows lifting slightly. "Well, sometimes, I guess," she said, her tone easy but curious. "Why?"

I hesitated, my earlier confidence faltering. How could I explain this without sounding completely unhinged? "I guess I just… don't remember much about it. It's kind of blurry for me."

Her brows knitted together as she studied me, her lips pressing into a line. "Really? That's weird. You, me, and Noah were practically inseparable back then. How could you forget that?"

My stomach flipped, her words hitting me harder than I expected. Inseparable. The word carried a weight I wasn't ready to unpack, tugging at memories I couldn't quite reach.

"Oh, uh… yeah, I guess it's just been a while," I said, forcing a laugh that I hoped sounded natural. "You know how memories fade."

She didn't look entirely convinced, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to figure out what I wasn't saying. For a moment, I thought she might press me further, but then she shrugged, picking up her pen again.

"Well, if you ever want a refresher, I've got plenty of stories. Like that one summer vacation we all spent together. You remember, right?"

I blinked, my mind scrambling to keep up. "Remind me?"

Lily leaned back in her chair, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "It was the summer we all went to that lake house—me, you, Noah, and some of the others. 

Your parents rented it for the group. We spent every day swimming, hiking, staying up way too late. There was another boy too, I forgot his name, but he was quite fun and friendly with Noah. Honestly, it was the best summer ever."

I tried to focus on what she was saying, but my thoughts were a tangled mess. On one hand, I wanted to know more—needed to know more—about that summer. 

On the other hand, there was a small, ridiculous part of me stuck on how effortless it was for her to talk about my true self as Chase.

And then Lily dropped a bombshell. "Actually," she said, her voice dropping slightly as she glanced around, "speaking of Noah… have you heard the rumor going around?"

"Rumor?" I echoed.

"Yeah," she said, leaning in conspiratorially. "Apparently, Noah has a thing for you."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, I couldn't process them. 

"What?"

Lily smirked, like she was enjoying my reaction. "You seriously didn't know? Come on, Chloe, the way he looks at you—it's kind of obvious."

My face went hot, the words sinking in like stones. Noah? The same guy who pulled all those pranks with me, cut classes with me, and spent every summer with me at the park? 

He… likes me? That couldn't be right. Could it?

I shook my head, trying to find something—anything—to say. "That's… that's ridiculous."

"Is it, though?" Lily teased, but there was something in her tone I couldn't quite place—something guarded, like she was testing me.

The idea of Noah liking me felt absurd. But what felt even more absurd was the heat creeping into my cheeks at the thought. I was flustered, embarrassed—and, deep down, I couldn't help wondering what Chase would have thought if he were here. Would he have been annoyed? Jealous? Or would he have laughed it off the way we always did?

Before I could spiral any further, Lily's phone buzzed on the table, breaking the moment. She glanced at it, her expression shifting to something apologetic. "That's my mom. I've got to head home."

"Already?" I said, trying to sound casual even though my chest was still buzzing with confusion.

"Sorry," she said, gathering her books and shoving them into her bag. "But hey, we'll hang out again soon, okay? Maybe I can bring some old pictures or something. Jog your memory."

I nodded, managing a smile. "Yeah. That'd be great."

As she walked out of the café, I slumped back in my chair, my iced latte untouched on the table in front of me.

Rumors about Noah, lingering feelings from when I was Chase, and a girl like Lily who seemed so close yet so far—it was all too much. 

But one thing was clear: if Lily and these memories held the key to understanding who I was, I couldn't stop now.

That night, sleep felt impossible. I twisted and turned in bed, my thoughts a relentless storm. The photograph, Lily's story, the rumor about Noah—they all swirled together, tangling in ways I couldn't untangle. 

Every thought felt like a piece of something, but the picture it formed was out of focus, just out of reach.

Finally, exhaustion claimed me, and when I drifted off, the dream came swiftly, as if it had been waiting for me.

I stood in the middle of a foggy room. The air was thick, heavy, suffocating, and the faint light barely cut through the mist. 

Mirrors lined the walls, reflecting nothing but that endless gray haze. I couldn't see anything clearly, but I could see myself in the mirrors—hundreds of reflections, overlapping, distorting, like I was being torn apart in a thousand ways.

But something was wrong. The reflection wasn't mine. Not entirely.

It was like a mixture of Chase and me—our faces merging, stretching, shifting with each heartbeat, like the water ripples in a pond disturbed by an unseen hand. 

His eyes, my lips, our features blending and unblending, flickering in and out of focus. I reached for one of the mirrors, but my hand passed right through, like the glass wasn't even there.

"What is this?" I breathed, my voice echoing around me in a strange, unfamiliar way, like it wasn't mine either. The sound hung in the air, caught in the fog, swallowed by the emptiness.

The reflection—no, it—smiled. A faint, chilling curl of the lips, a smile that felt nothing like mine. I froze, watching as it stretched wider. 

For a moment, the smile wasn't mine at all. It wasn't my smile. It felt like it came from somewhere else, someone else.

And then, in a blink, the smile faded, but the cold lingered.

I woke up with a gasp. My body trembled, heart racing like I was still trapped in that room. The darkness of my room wrapped around me, but something felt different.

The mirror across the room—my reflection. The same mirror that I looked at on the first day I was reborn into this world.

But something about what I was seeing now on it wasn't right. For one frozen moment, I couldn't recognize the figure staring back. It wasn't me. It wasn't.

I blinked, and the reflection steadied, reshaping itself. But then, I saw him. Chase. His eyes–my true eyes–locked with Chloe's, piercing, unwavering. For just a second, I felt something flicker in the air, something I couldn't explain. Something ancient, forgotten.

The truth crashed into me.

I wasn't just Chase reborn into a girl's body. Somewhere, somehow, I knew the girl whose body I had now. Before the world shifted, before time twisted and pulled me into this new body, she was in my life.

I had always thought that Chase and I were the same, only... I was reborn three months before my death. This was the twisted reality where I had been split from him, torn away, erased from his memory.

But then, the memory hit me—unbidden, sharp, a flash of lightning in my mind.

The figure. The figure from the afterlife, standing in that strange, liminal space between worlds. The voice, deep and hollow, telling me that I had been brought back to fix my mistakes. 

That I—Chloe—was sent to repair what I had ruined when I had been Chase. But what if that wasn't the truth? What if the figure had made a mistake?

Could it be? Could I be someone else entirely, someone other than the person I thought I was? What if, in some twisted turn of fate, Chase's soul–my soul–had been reborn into Chloe's body? What if Chase's essence had been folded into someone else entirely, someone who wasn't me?

I stared at the reflection in the mirror, searching for something—anything—that might prove I was still who I thought I was.

But the more I looked, the more the doubt seeped in, a poison slowly spreading through my veins. Was I really just Chase in a genderbent body, or did I replace someone else's life?

Could the figure have made a mistake? Was this all wrong?

I felt a shiver crawl down my spine, but it wasn't from the cold. It was the crushing weight of uncertainty. 

A part of me—no, a huge part—wanted to believe that I was still Chase, that I had been given a second chance to make things right. But another part of me was terrified of the truth, terrified of the possibility that I wasn't who I thought I was, that the life I was living was a lie, and I wasn't the one who had been meant to fix the past.

I looked at my reflection, waiting for some answer, some sign. But there was nothing—just the same unblinking eyes, the same face staring back at me. Only, now, I wasn't so sure it was mine.