CHAPTER FOUR:The Sound Of Something Remembered

Isaiah

He didn't expect it to feel this easy — this natural.

Sitting beside Elianah, even in silence, didn't feel awkward. It felt… right. As if they'd always done this. As if the space between them had always been shaped just for her.

They met twice a week after school to work on their joint project. The first meeting was quiet. The second was lighter. By the third, they were laughing at things that didn't need to be funny.

> "Why do you always draw when you're thinking?" she asked one day.

He looked down at the sketchpad he didn't even realize he'd been using. Another faceless figure. A girl in the rain.

He shrugged.

> "I don't know. It helps me remember."

> "Remember what?"

> "That's the thing," he said. "I'm not sure."

---

Elianah

She watched him more now — not like a crush, but like a puzzle she once solved and forgot how. His silence didn't bother her. It mirrored hers.

One evening, he offered her one of his drawings.

A quiet girl beneath a tree, her hair braided with small stars.

> "She looks like me," Elianah whispered.

> "I didn't mean to," he said. "But I think she is."

She traced the lines of the girl's face, her fingers trembling just slightly. Something about the image struck a chord in her — not just recognition, but a strange ache.

Like déjà vu.

---

Isaiah

Sometimes, around her, he felt moments stretch — like time slowed for them.

Once, their hands brushed as they reached for the same notebook. Just fingers. Just skin.

But it burned like memory.

He wanted to ask her more. About her dreams. About the way she sometimes looked at the stars like they were speaking to her.

But he didn't. Not yet.

Instead, he offered something else.

> "Wanna hear something weird?" he asked.

She nodded.

> "I had a dream about you once. Before I knew your name."

---

Elianah

Her breath caught.

> "I dream of you too," she said.

Quietly.

Like a confession.

They didn't explain the dreams.

They didn't need to.

And when they walked home that day — side by side — neither spoke of the strange pull in their chest, or the way the wind seemed to whisper their names like a song once lost.

---

Narrator

It had begun.

Not love. Not yet.

But recognition. A thread tightening.

And somewhere far from their quiet town, in a place untouched by light, something stirred.

A shadow. A past.

A promise left unkept.