I stopped looking for her after the fourth year.
Not because I gave up.
Because hope became heavier than disappointment.
Every city blurred into the next. Every crowd made my chest tighten for no reason. Every laugh that sounded like hers left me turning around like an idiot.
Jay wasn't anywhere.
And that absence carved something permanent into me.
The house flooded during the monsoon season.
Burst pipe. Structural damage.
Unlivable.
I didn't care.
I moved out without a second thought and rented a condo near the business district—temporary, convenient, empty.
It suited me.
Work kept me busy. Meetings. Calls. Decisions that mattered more than feelings.
That day, I came back late.
Tired. Distracted.
I stepped into the lobby and collided with someone.
"Sorry," we said at the same time.
She moved past me quickly.
Then—
"Jay!"
The name hit me like a punch.
My heart stopped.
I turned.
She wasn't there.
Just people walking. Talking. Living.
I stood there longer than necessary, my chest tight, my head buzzing.
Get it together.
I exhaled sharply.
I was imagining things again.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
So I went to the rooftop pool.
The city lights stretched endlessly, water reflecting everything I tried not to feel. I slipped my jacket off and walked closer to the edge—
Someone slipped.
Instinct took over.
I caught her.
My hands landed on her waist and—
My entire body went rigid.
No.
That wasn't possible.
But my heart already knew.
I looked down.
And the world stopped.
Jay.
She was real.
Standing in front of me.
Breathing.
Alive.
Her eyes met mine—and I saw it.
Shock. Fear. Recognition.
The kind that changes everything.