Theo couldn’t sleep that night.
He sat up staring at the spot where Ruby had stood, the air faintly warmer than it should’ve been. Every logical thought screamed impossible, but every instinct whispered real.
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When morning came, the smell of burnt toast greeted him. Maya hummed in the kitchen, still in her clinic scrubs, her hair in a messy bun. Ordinary. Safe.
He almost convinced himself he had dreamed it — until he noticed the small circle of ash on the floor beside his window.
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“What’s that?” Maya asked, following his gaze.
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Theo lied too quickly. “Dropped some incense. For a school thing.”
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She smiled distractedly. “Well, try not to burn the house down.”
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He watched her pour coffee and thought, She has no idea.
Something in him decided not to tell her not yet.
That afternoon, he went up to the attic, a place his mother rarely entered. Dust lay like a century-old quilt. He rummaged through old boxes until one photo stopped him cold.
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A girl — unmistakably Ruby — stood beside two other teens: a boy with sea-gray eyes (Aiden) and a girl with a nervous smile (Lila). Behind them, the Balsey house looked exactly the same.
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Written in faded ink: Willow Street, 1999.
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Theo touched the photo and the air rippled slightly. A faint whisper brushed his ear — a voice not his own:
“Don’t forget us.”
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The attic light flickered.
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and then Add to home screen.