Silence.

The kind that stretched into her bones, echoing in the hollow space he left behind.

One moment, his fingers were entwined with hers, his warmth anchoring her. The next — he was gone.

No trace of him. Not even the air remembered his presence.

The weight of it crushed her chest.

She wanted to scream. To tear through the walls of fate itself and drag him back.

But all she could do was stand there, hands shaking, heart breaking.

The Collector gave her one last glance — pitying, almost amused — before turning away, disappearing into the shadows.

And then, it was just her.

Alone.

The Aftermath

She didn’t remember leaving.

She didn’t remember how she ended up in her apartment, staring blankly at the ceiling.

What was the point of this life if he wasn’t in it?

She curled into herself, the weight of seventeen lives pressing down on her chest.

He was always there.

In every life. Even if they were enemies. Even if he was the one who killed her.

But now —

He was erased.

The world was moving on like he had never existed.

Except she remembered.

And that was the cruellest part.

She closed her eyes.

She could still see him. Hear him. Feel the ghost of his touch.

A debt had been paid. A balance restored.

But something was wrong.

Deep in her soul, she felt it — a fracture in the order of things.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

And she wasn’t going to accept it.

The Echoes of the Past

Days passed. Or maybe weeks.

Time had lost all meaning.

But then, the dreams started.

No — not dreams. Memories.

Not just hers.

His.

She saw his past lives — every moment he had kept hidden from her.

His pain. His sacrifices. His endless battle against fate.

And then —

A single memory that didn’t belong.

A place she had never been. A whisper of something unfinished.

He wasn’t gone. Not completely.

There was a way to get him back.

But it would require something no one had ever dared to do.

Breaking fate itself.