Chapter 3: Reality 3 — Noah

Emma woke with a gasp, her chest tight, as if she'd been holding her breath. The room was bathed in soft morning light, filtering through gauzy white curtains that swayed gently in a breeze she couldn't feel. The bed was too wide, the pillows too soft, and the air carried a faint scent of cedar, not lavender or citrus. She turned her head, expecting to see David, and there he was, sleeping soundly, his face the same as always—strong jaw, faint lines around his eyes. But everything else was wrong. The walls were painted a muted green, adorned with framed botanical prints she'd never chosen. Her heart thudded, a sickening rhythm. Where was Lily? Where was Ethan?

She slid out of bed, her bare feet sinking into a thick carpet, not a rug or hardwood. The house was quiet, too quiet, no slamming doors or teenage shouts. Her mind churned—Ethan's arrest, Lily's note, the red coat still vivid in her memory. She pressed her hands to her temples, willing the pieces to fit, but they slipped further apart. Was she losing her mind?

A soft creak came from down the hall. Emma followed it, her steps tentative, as if the floor might vanish beneath her. The hallway led to a small room, its door ajar. Inside, a boy sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by books, his dark hair falling over his glasses as he scribbled in a notebook. He was younger than Ethan or Lily, maybe thirteen, slight and pale, with an intensity that made the air feel heavy. He didn't look up.

"Hello?" Emma's voice was barely a whisper, afraid to shatter the moment. The boy's pencil paused, but he didn't turn. She stepped closer, her maternal instinct tugging her forward despite the strangeness. "I'm… I'm Emma. Your mom."

The boy's head snapped up, his eyes sharp and gray, piercing through her. "You're not my mom," he said, his voice quiet but firm, like a statement of fact. He closed his notebook with a deliberate snap and stood, clutching it to his chest. "You're just… here."

Emma's breath caught, her legs unsteady. "What do you mean? I—" She stopped, her words dissolving. His name surfaced in her mind like a bubble breaking the surface of water: Noah. How did she know that? She reached out, but he stepped back, his expression unreadable.

"Noah, I'm trying to understand," she said, her voice trembling. "I want to help you."

He studied her for a long moment, then turned to the window, his fingers tracing the edge of his notebook. "You always say that," he muttered, almost to himself. "But you don't stay."

The words hit like a slap. Emma's heart ached, torn between the son she'd seen handcuffed, the daughter who'd run from her, and this boy who felt both familiar and impossibly distant. She glanced around the room—shelves lined with astronomy books, a telescope by the window, a star chart pinned to the wall. It was a world she didn't know, yet her fingers itched to touch the books, as if they held answers.

Footsteps approached, and David appeared in the doorway, his face etched with concern. "Emma, you're up early." He glanced at Noah, then back at her, his eyes softening. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"David, who is he?" she whispered, pointing at Noah, who was now ignoring them, flipping through his notebook again. "Where are we? What's happening to me?"

David's brow furrowed, but his voice stayed calm, practiced. "That's Noah, our son. Emma, you've been… off lately. Maybe you need to rest." He stepped closer, his hand grazing her arm, but she pulled away, her pulse racing.

"Noah?" she echoed, her voice breaking. "But what about Ethan? And Lily?" Her hands shook as she gestured toward the boy, who didn't react. "David, I don't understand. I was just with Lily yesterday, and Ethan—"

"Emma, stop." David's tone sharpened, though his eyes were kind. "There's no Ethan or Lily. It's just Noah. It's always been Noah." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're worrying me."

She stared at him, then at Noah, who was now sketching something—a spiral, like a galaxy. Her chest tightened, a flood of emotions she couldn't name. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but Noah's quiet presence anchored her. He needed her, even if he didn't know it. She took a step toward him, her voice soft. "Noah, what are you drawing?"

He didn't look up. "Stars," he said simply. "They're always there, even when you can't see them."

Emma's breath hitched. Something about his words, his voice, felt like a memory she couldn't grasp. She knelt beside him, ignoring David's worried gaze. "Can you show me?"

Noah hesitated, then slid the notebook toward her. The page was filled with intricate drawings of constellations, but one stood out—a small, looping symbol, like a bracelet. Her fingers brushed the paper, and a chill ran through her. She'd seen that symbol before, hadn't she? On Lily's note? Or was it Ethan's jacket?

David's voice broke the moment. "Emma, let him be. He's fine." But his tone carried an edge, a warning. She looked up, catching a flicker of something in his eyes—fear? Frustration? She stood, her resolve hardening. She didn't know what was happening, but Noah was here, real, and he needed her. Ethan and Lily were out there, somewhere, and she wouldn't let them go.

As she followed David back to the kitchen, Noah's voice drifted after her, soft and eerie. "You'll see them in Paris."

Emma froze, her heart lurching. "What did you say?"

But Noah was already back to his notebook, as if he hadn't spoken at all.