The Weight of the Vision

Tobi jolted awake.

His eyes flew open, drenched in sweat. His heart pounded like a war drum, a deep ache twisting in his chest as he scrambled upright in bed. For a moment, everything was a blur — the darkness of the room, the soft hum of the city outside, the warm body lying beside him.

"Emilia..." he breathed, turning quickly.

She stirred beneath the covers, her long lashes fluttering before her sleepy eyes cracked open. "Tobi? What is it?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed her hand — trembling fingers searching for reassurance — and pulled her into an hug

But now it was gone.

It wasn't real.

It had been a vision.

Tobi's breathing slowed as he looked around their room in their North London home. The sun hadn't yet risen; the streetlights still bathed the curtains in an orange hue. Emilia gently stroked the back of his neck, still half-asleep, and whispered, "What happened?"