Echoes of the Past

Neon lights flickered against the glass towers, painting the streets in shifting hues of blue, red, and gold. People moved like waves in the night, each one with a purpose, a destination. Taxis honked, street vendors shouted, and music spilled from high-end clubs, blending into the hum of life.

Lyra moved through it all as if she weren't really there.

Her green eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the passing faces, but she wasn't looking for anything—just distractions. She was always looking for something to keep the thoughts at bay, to keep herself from slipping.

And then she saw it.

A red scarf, tangled around the arm of a streetlamp, fluttering gently in the breeze.

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, the city around her faded, drowned out by a memory she had tried to bury deep.

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A Perfect Day

The estate's gardens stretched endlessly, green and golden under the afternoon sun. The air smelled of freshly cut grass and the faint sweetness of the flowers lining the stone pathways. Birds sang somewhere in the trees, and the world felt warm, safe, and full of possibilities.

Lyra, no older than nine, sprinted across the yard, a bright red scarf tied loosely around her neck. The wind tugged at it as she laughed, turning to face the small boy chasing after her.

"Too slow, Eli!" she teased, twirling away as he tried to grab her sleeve.

Eli, her little brother, grinned, his blonde hair messy from the chase. "I'll catch you this time!"

Lyra laughed, running faster, but Eli was persistent. His small legs carried him determinedly forward, his arms outstretched as he lunged at her.

She dodged—effortlessly, playfully—until she made a mistake.

She turned too fast, and the red scarf slipped from her neck, caught by the wind. It sailed through the air, twisting, drifting—until it landed at the edge of the pond.

Eli skidded to a stop, eyes fixed on it.

"I'll get it!" he declared, running toward the water before Lyra could react.

"Wait—Eli, no!"

Her voice didn't reach him fast enough.

Eli reached for the scarf, his small fingers brushing the fabric—just as his foot slipped on the damp stone.

Time fractured.

One moment, he was there—safe, whole, smiling.

The next—

A splash.

Lyra's heart stopped.

For a second, Eli surfaced, gasping, his arms flailing as he tried to grab onto something. The pond wasn't deep, but for someone so small, it was enough.

"Eli!" Lyra screamed, her feet frozen to the ground.

She had always thought she'd be the kind of person who would move, who would leap into the water without hesitation. But in that moment, she didn't.

She stood there, watching as her brother thrashed, his tiny hands reaching for her, his green eyes wide with terror.

"Lyra—"

A final, desperate gasp—

Then he was gone.

The red scarf floated on the surface, taunting her.

By the time the house staff heard her screams and pulled Eli from the water, his lips were blue. His fingers were still curled around the very thing that had lured him to his death.

Her parents had called it an accident. The staff had whispered about a tragedy.

But Lyra had always known the truth.

She could have saved him.

She should have.

---

Present Day

Lyra sucked in a sharp breath, stumbling back a step. The red scarf on the streetlamp flapped violently, caught in a sudden gust of wind.

For a split second, she wasn't in the city.

She was back at the pond, watching her brother disappear beneath the surface.

Her fingers curled into fists, nails pressing hard into her palms. It had been years. Years of running, of pretending, of building walls high enough to keep the past from clawing its way through.

But it always did.

And tonight, it had found her again.

A sharp gust tore the scarf free, sending it tumbling through the air before landing on the wet pavement at her feet.

She stared at it.

Then, slowly, she crouched down and picked it up. The fabric was soft against her fingers—too soft, too familiar.

Her stomach twisted.

She should leave it. Walk away. Forget.

But she didn't.

Instead, she folded the scarf carefully and tucked it into her coat pocket.

Then, without another glance, Lyra turned and disappeared into the city.

No matter how far she ran, Eli's ghost would always be one step behind her.

And she would always deserve it.

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