Chapter ELEVEN
The Dream of Another Life
The city outside Hazel's window murmured like a distant lullaby. After the conversation in Aiden's car, her mind had spun in circles, too restless to sleep. But eventually, exhaustion won. She collapsed onto her bed, the burner phone Aiden gave her still resting on the nightstand like a silent sentinel.
And then…
She wasn't in her bed anymore.
She was somewhere else.
Hazel stood barefoot on a cool marble floor, her reflection shimmering faintly in tall glass windows. A piano played softly in the background — notes she somehow knew by heart.
The air smelled of jasmine and rain.
She looked down at herself and gasped.
The silk dress clinging to her frame wasn't hers — not anything she owned or remembered buying. It was champagne-colored, backless, and expensive. Her fingers traced the delicate fabric as if it were familiar.
And then a voice spoke behind her.
"You're doing that thing again. Where you disappear before you're even gone."
She turned slowly — and saw him.
But it wasn't Aiden as she knew him now.
He looked younger. Lighter. His eyes were softer, filled with something that Hazel hadn't seen before: peace.
And he wasn't calling her Hazel.
"Emily," he whispered, stepping closer. "Talk to me."
The name echoed strangely in her chest. Familiar and foreign all at once.
She tried to speak, but no sound came. Her body moved on its own — stepping toward him, reaching for him.
When his hands touched her waist, it felt like gravity realigned.
You know this. You've felt this before, something deep inside her whispered.
"I'm not disappearing," she said — but it wasn't her voice. It was Emily's. Warm. Sad. Full of secrets.
He didn't believe her. Hazel — Emily — could see it in his eyes.
"You've been different since he started coming around."
He.
The name wasn't spoken, but it weighed in the air like smoke. A shadow with a heartbeat.
"I just needed something you couldn't give me," she said — and the pain in his face twisted Hazel's stomach.
"Loyalty?" he asked quietly.
"No. Rest."
The scene shifted.
Now they were in a car — rain streaking the windshield, wipers rhythmically slicing the silence.
Hazel sat in the passenger seat, clutching something in her hands.
A letter?
No. A photo.
She glanced at it — and saw herself.
But not quite. It was Emily again. And next to her in the picture was Liam.
The way he looked at Emily made Hazel's skin crawl. Not because he looked dangerous — but because he looked sincere.
Utterly, terrifyingly sincere.
Like he would destroy the world for her and never think twice.
Lightning cracked outside the car.
When she looked up again, Liam was standing in the middle of the road — soaked, still, watching the car approach.
Aiden slammed the brakes.
Hazel screamed.
And everything shattered.
She bolted upright in bed, breath caught in her throat, the sheets twisted around her like restraints.
The room was quiet. Still. Normal.
But nothing felt normal.
Her heart pounded like she'd lived an entire life inside the dream.
And the worst part?
It didn't feel like a dream.
It felt like a memory.
Hazel swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for the burner phone.
No new messages.
But she couldn't shake the echo of the piano. The weight of that dress. The pain in Aiden's eyes.
And the look on Liam's face.