Lily woke with a start in her own bed. Her eyes flew open to the familiar ceiling and the ghost of a dream that would not leave.
The phone on her bedside table rang once from an unknown number. Her chest felt raw, as if she'd been trying to hold her lungs in place with hands. For a moment she could not remember which world was real.
She had been too deep into the game, she told herself. Too late last night. The dream would fade.
The alarm flared: 4:00 a.m. She silenced it, curled back under the covers, and let sleep claim her again. The second dream arrived like a different weather—clearer, intimate.
A man stood in the bright of it: silver hair, eyes that were not human—an 3 orange ring inside a violet pupil—and his lips moved, shaping words she could not hear.
Someone called, a voice like a bell: "Lily... Lily... Lily! Wake up, it's late—you have the interview!"
Her eyes jerked open. Office? Interview? She shot out of bed, heart thudding. Today. She had an interview today.
The morning rushed: face washed, teeth brushed, a flimsy breakfast swallowed. Her mother, bustling and sharp-tongued, called from the kitchen.
"Mom! Why didn't you wake me earlier?" Lily demanded.
"Stupid child," her mother answered, tapping the crown of Lily's head with mock sternness.
"I've been calling you since the alarm went off. It was loud enough to wake up the neighbourhood-except you."
"Ouch!" Lily rubbed her head.
Her father came in laughing, old habits worn easy across his face. The house smelled of coffee and burnt toast and ordinary life. For a heartbeat everything was the comforting choreography of a family: small jokes, the weather on the radio, the ruffle of a newspaper.
"Alright, alright," her father said, ruffling Lily's hair like she was still his little girl. "Be gentle with my princess. I'm retiring soon, you know—pension kicks in next month—so no one has to worry. I'll make sure Rosie's party tonight has everything. Your old man will take care of you girls, even if the whole world forgets."
He grinned, the kind you could rely on to smooth over worry. Retirement. Pension. The words landed like promises.
The television in the living room switched from morning news to a street reporter's urgent face:
"…a beast has broken loose—citizens advised to lock doors and avoid travel—more updates as they showed bright banner crawled with the word DANGEROUS.
Her mother's voice tightened. "It's too dangerous to walk around. Lily, come home early, please."
Before Lily could answer, her younger sister Rosie burst through the kitchen door, breathless and sparkling. "Sister Lily, it's my birthday—won't you wish me?" Rosie begged.
"Happy birthday!" the house sang, all warmth and clatter. Rosie's small fingers curled with hopeful impatience. "I want the new rare doll—Beara Bear," she said, eyes enormous.
Lily smiled and, because she loved making promises she intended to keep, she told Rosie she'd bring the princess cake she had in mind.
They laughed, hugged, and then were off: Lily for her interview, Rosie to school. The farewell felt ordinary, the kind of small choreography people can do with their eyes closed.
On her way, Lily saw him—her fiancé, Evan.
He was handsome in that careful, deliberate way that came from knowing it. Clean-cut, steady, a little too put together. She smiled before she could stop herself and started toward him, heart thudding like hope trying too hard.
Then she stopped.
He wasn't alone.
He was holding someone—close. Their lips met with a slow, certain ease that didn't belong to strangers.
Marina.
Her best friend.
For a second, Lily couldn't even place it. Her mind refused the shape of what she was seeing.
"Marina?" Her voice cracked. "What are you doing?"
Marina froze mid-step, color draining from her face. "Lily—wait, it's not—"
Evan's hand slid from hers, and he exhaled like someone tired of pretending.
"Lily," he said, his tone clipped, rehearsed. "I've been meaning to tell you something."
Lily's stomach dropped. "Tell me what?"
He didn't flinch. "I love Marina. I don't want—" His jaw tightened. "We're done."
The words hit with surgical precision, slicing clean through her.
Lily stared between them, the city noise collapsing into nothing. Marina's eyes shimmered, mouth open, no defense left.
"Lily, I didn't mean—"
But Evan was already turning away, and she followed, hesitant, like someone being pulled into a current she didn't know how to escape.
Lily stood there, the pavement cold beneath her shoes, her body refusing to move. The wind tugged at her hair. She didn't cry. She just whispered, barely breathing,
"Marina… why?"
"Enough!" Evan snapped, his voice cutting through the air. "I love Marina, and this wedding is over."
"What?" Lily's voice cracked, thin with disbelief. "Are you insane?"
Evan didn't blink. "You're so boring," he said, calm and cruel. "You're nerdy, ugly. I deserve someone better."
Her heart twisted. "Better?" she managed. Her gaze landed on Marina — her best friend, the one who knew everything. "You mean her?"
Marina's face stiffened, guilt flickering before she looked away.
Lily's voice shook. "You were supposed to be my friend. You said you'd never lie to me. You told me I was overreacting, that he loved me—and all along, you were the reason he didn't."
Marina said nothing. The silence hurt more than words ever could.
Evan sighed. "Don't do this, Lily. It's over. Accept it."
"Over?" she breathed. Her eyes glistened. "I gave you everything, Evan. I believed you when you said I was enough."
He turned away. "You never were."
Her chest tightened, breath catching like a sob she refused to let out. "Evan!" she called, voice breaking in the cold air. But he didn't stop.
He just kept walking, hand in Marina's, their figures fading into the gray distance. Lily stood frozen, unaware of the small, satisfied grin that slipped across Marina's face before it disappeared.
The world blurred. The street, the noise, the sky — all gone quiet. She couldn't feel her hands. Couldn't remember where she was going. Only that the one person she loved, and the one she trusted most, had walked away together.