Chapter 1: The Cold Spring
It was supposed to be the happiest day before everything froze.
The mountain road was long and quiet that morning, the kind of silence that makes you believe the world itself was holding its breath.
Mist drifted over the trees, wrapping the cold spring in a pale silver veil. The water shimmered faintly beneath the dawn light, and laughter echoed across the clearing.
Sam was the loudest of us all.
"Jess!" she called, standing ankle-deep in the clear water. "You're missing the whole point of a cold spring if you just sit there and watch!"
I smiled, pretending not to notice the way her voice made the air warmer. "Someone has to make sure you don't freeze to death."
Our friends Cj, Sofia, and Emman laughed from the rocks. Cj tossed a small pebble toward me. "He's not watching for safety, he's watching for romance!"
Sam rolled her eyes but smiled. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail, sunlight brushing across her face like a quiet blessing. Everything about her looked alive. Real.
I didn't know that within a few hours, reality would forget her completely.
We stayed there for hours, talking about nothing and everything, the future, old dreams, and stupid things from high school. The sound of running water, the smell of pine, and her laughter were all I needed to believe the world was perfect.
Then, just after noon, the clouds began to roll in.
"Storm's coming," Emman said, checking his phone. "We should head back soon."
Sam turned to me, her smile soft but distant. "Five more minutes," she whispered. "I want to remember this place."
I wanted to tell her we had time. I wanted to promise her forever. Instead, I just nodded.
She stepped deeper into the spring, water rippling around her knees.
I blinked once, and she was gone.
No splash. No sound. No scream.
Just the wind and the trembling of the water.
"Sam?" I called, running forward. My voice echoed against the rocks. "Sam!"
Cj stood up, confused. "Who's Sam?"
I stopped cold. The name felt heavy on my tongue. "What do you mean, who's Sam? She was right here!"
Sofia frowned. "Jess, are you okay? You came here alone."
The world tilted. The mist grew thick, swallowing their faces. I dove into the water, arms thrashing, searching for her. But all I found was cold emptiness.
That night, I checked my phone a hundred times. No photos.
No messages.
No contact named Samantha Faith Flores.
Even the group photos we took that morning she wasn't there. Just me, smiling at nothing.
I drove to her house in the rain. Her mother opened the door, eyes cautious.
"Can I help you?"
"Is Sam home?" I asked, trembling.
Her brow creased. "I'm sorry, there's no one by that name here."
My heart cracked in silence. "I—I've been here before. She lives here. Samantha Faith Flores."
She shook her head slowly. "You must have the wrong house, son."
By midnight, I sat alone in my room, staring at the cross necklace she gave me on our monthsarry. It glinted faintly under the light, proof she was real. Proof I wasn't losing my mind.
But then I noticed something engraved faintly on the back, a line I'd never seen before:
"You promised Me this would happen."
My breath caught.
The lamp flickered.
Outside, rain poured harder, each drop striking the window like tiny whispers.
I turned off the light and lay in bed, clutching the cross. The moment I closed my eyes, the world of dreams opened like a wound.
I saw the cold spring again, only this time, it was empty. Mist curling over the water.
Then, a voice, almost tender, echoed through the fog.
"You shouldn't have loved her so much," it said.
I tried to shout, to move, but I couldn't.
And then I saw her, Sam, standing on the far side of the spring, her dress white, her eyes full of sorrow.
"Sam!" I called.
She smiled faintly. "You promised me this would happen."
The water rippled once more. She reached out her hand, then dissolved into light.
When I woke, my pillow was wet.
On it lay a single white lily.
I sat up, gasping for breath. My hands trembled as I reached for my desk lamp.
The room was dim, quiet except for the whisper of rain outside.
My eyes fell on the open notebook beside me, ink still fresh from the night before.
The title read: Unwritten by God.
It was my unfinished manuscript, a story about a man who loses the woman he loves when the world forgets her.
Only now, the story wasn't fiction anymore.
Flipping through the pages, I found something that made my stomach twist.
On the last line of the latest chapter, written in handwriting that wasn't mine:
"She was never written in My book."
I stared at it until the letters blurred.
Then, faintly, through the hum of the storm, I heard her voice again.
"Jess…"
The lamp flickered once and went out.
End of Chapter 1.