Some things can't really be explained… and today, things happened to me that I couldn't have imagined.
After meeting the doctors, my anxiety only got worse.
But I just hope my anxiety doesn't turn into fear...
"Sofi, calm down," I whispered to myself, closing my eyes.
And of course… him.
That man.
The one I almost got hit by in the parking lot.
His face suddenly flashed through my mind again.
I opened my eyes with a groan.
"Ughhh, why am I getting so mad right now?"
And more than that…
I felt so embarrassed.
He probably thinks I'm some kind of idiot, right?
Running into his car like some reckless maniac...
I kept staring at my nails, absentmindedly picking at them as one annoying thought looped in my mind:
"What could his name be...?"
Just then, Amelia nudged me from behind and plopped down beside me on the bed.
"Who are you thinking about, Sofi?" she asked, squinting suspiciously.
"We have to start studying from tomorrow. Let's go to sleep now."
I gave her a look—half annoyed, half guilty because even I didn't know why I was still thinking about him.
Amelia raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly.
"Umm... okay, that was random. Why? Who is this mystery person, Sofi?"
I turned my gaze to the window, trying to avoid eye contact.
The city lights outside blurred into a quiet haze, but my thoughts weren't quiet at all.
"I mean… is it even possible to find out about someone you've only met once?"
I repeated, softer this time, almost to myself.
God, I sound crazy.
Amelia leaned closer, her voice teasing but curious.
"If this was about some guy, you should've told me earlier!"
"Now tell me, who is he? Where did you meet him?"
"C'mon, Sofi!" she grinned, nudging me again.
"I don't know…" I sighed.
"I don't even know his name. I saw him in the hospital parking lot."
"But before that I'd seen him once in traffic. I couldn't see his face then, just noticed his hands… and his car."
"And then again… in the parking lot."
I paused, my voice quieter now.
"You know what? I almost walked right in front of his car."
Amelia widened her eyes.
"Then you must've looked like some crazy girl to him."
"Seriously, how were you even walking to end up right in front of his car?"
"What if there had been an accident?"
"I know…" I muttered.
"Good thing he hit the brakes in time.
Otherwise, he'd be in jail right now… and I'd be lying in the ICU."
"Amelia…" I whispered, pulling the blanket over myself.
"Let's just go to sleep.
I don't want to lose my mind thinking about a complete stranger…
Let's just forget about it right here."
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦
The night wrapped the room in stillness, but my mind refused to rest.
Somewhere between dreams and drifting thoughts, I found myself standing alone…
In a dimly lit hallway.
The walls were endless, blurred in shadow.
The air was thick—as if holding its breath with me.
A faint breeze whispered against my ears, like a secret no one was supposed to hear.
Soft. Repeating. Relentless.
I took a cautious step forward.
There was a door at the end of the corridor.
Old, unfamiliar… and yet it pulled at something inside me.
I reached for the handle.
Click.
Just before I could turn it, a voice echoed from the other side.
"You… again?"
I froze.
That voice. His voice.
"Who's there?" I asked, barely above a whisper.
My hand pushed the door open.
But before I could react, the ground gave way beneath me—
I fell forward, straight into someone's arms.
Him.
I looked up.
There he was.
That same face.
Sharp jawline. Shadowed eyes. That unreadable expression.
"Once again, you end up in front of me," he said, voice calm… but his grip, firm.
"You bumped into me. Again."
"Is it coincidence… or do you just not want to let me go?"
His words weren't loud.
But they echoed in my bones.
I tried to speak tried to say something. Anything.
But before I could…
He leaned down, just a breath away from my ear.
And whispered one word—soft and slow:
"Elena."
My real name.
The one I hadn't told him.
The one no stranger should've known.
My breath caught.
My chest tightened.
And then—
I jolted awake.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
The room was dark.
My heart was racing.
My hands? Shaking.
I pressed them against my chest, whispering to myself:
It was just a dream… right?
I checked my phone.
5 AM.
My chest was rising and falling so fast… I could barely think straight.
My breathing was erratic, my skin clammy with a layer of cold sweat.
I tried to lie back down, tried to calm myself.
But all I could think was:
"What's happening to me?"
Why is he haunting my thoughts like this?
He's just… some stranger.
Why am I dreaming about him?
Why is he lingering in my head so deeply that I'm seeing these absurd dreams now?
I shut my eyes tightly, trying to shake his name, his voice, his face out of my mind.
But it wouldn't leave.
A little while later, Amelia and Lyra woke me up.
Still feeling groggy, I dragged myself out of bed to get ready.
I didn't say much my mind was still tangled in the remnants of that dream.
After getting dressed, I headed out with both of them.
We walked together toward our building, the campus slowly coming to life around us.
And finally, we stepped into the classroom to attend our very first lecture of the day.
The class was quiet except for the professor's voice echoing off the whiteboard. I sat still, pen in hand, eyes trained on my notebook…
But my thoughts were nowhere near the topic.
I tapped my pen lightly, almost rhythmically, trying to pull myself back into focus.
No dreams. No parking lot. No mysterious men.
Just… be present, Sofi.
And then—
Something flickered outside the window.
My eyes darted to the glass.
Someone was walking past the building. Tall. Dressed in black. Confident steps.
And for a second, my heart skipped.
That shirt… black. Slightly rolled sleeves. The way he walked—
Was that—?
No.
No, no, Sofi. Not everyone in a black shirt is him.
I looked down quickly, suddenly aware of how tense my shoulders had become.
"Are you okay?" Amelia whispered beside me, nudging her elbow gently.
I nodded too quickly. "Yeah. Just… sleepy."
But as I tried to refocus on the board, I caught a glimpse of a BMW keychain on the bag of the guy sitting diagonally across from me.
My fingers froze around my pen.
This is ridiculous.
He's not everywhere, Sofi. You're just looking too hard.
Still, I couldn't shake the feeling.
It was like… the universe was playing games, scattering little pieces of him around me.
And I—
I was starting to fall for the puzzle.
The bell rang, a sharp reminder that the world was still real, still moving.
Everyone began packing up. Zippers. Chairs screeching. A few lazy yawns.
I moved slower than the rest—half hoping, half dreading… something.
Amelia tugged my sleeve. "C'mon, let's go before the next class rush starts."
We stepped into the hallway, a slow current of students pushing in every direction.
That's when it happened.
A sharp breeze passed me like someone brushing too close but it wasn't the touch that made me pause.
It was the scent.
Familiar. Faint. Like a memory I hadn't meant to store.
Musky. Clean. That same scent from the parking lot—
His cologne.
I turned immediately, eyes scanning behind me.
A few students. Some chatting. Some walking away. One guy adjusting his backpack.
But no one who looked like him.
Still, my heart raced in my chest like I was being chased by a ghost.
A ghost I wasn't sure I wanted to escape.
"Sofi?" Lyra called ahead, her voice snapping me back.
I looked away quickly, pretending I hadn't just frozen in the hallway like a statue in a panic.
"Coming," I murmured, walking faster to catch up faster than I needed to.
But the air still lingered behind me.
And deep down…
I knew it wasn't just nothing.
Something was shifting. Quietly.
And he was still somewhere around me.
______________________________
2ɴᴅ ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱ – ᴘꜱʏᴄʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ 101
The classroom was buzzing with the usual first-day energy—chairs dragging, nervous chatter, notebooks flipping open. Sofi took her seat in the third row, trying to suppress the remnants of her weird, lingering dream.
She was early. Amelia and Lyra sat beside her, mid-conversation, but her mind wandered. The clock ticked closer to 9:00 AM.
And then… the door clicked.
A tall figure walked in, dressed in a crisp charcoal shirt and black slacks. Calm, composed, every step quiet but confident.
Sofi's breath caught in her throat.
No. No way.
Her pen froze mid-word.
It was him.
The same man.
The car. The hospital. The dream.
He didn't look at her, not yet. He placed a file on the desk, glanced at the class once with sharp, unreadable eyes, and spoke in a voice that sliced clean through the room.
"Good morning. Professor Hale will be late for today.
I'm Aidan. Your TA for this semester."
Aidan.
So that was his name.
Sofi blinked. Her fingers tightened around her pen. She didn't know whether to breathe or run.
He started writing on the board, explaining course expectations. His tone was calm but carried weight like he didn't need to raise his voice to be taken seriously.
He turned around again. For a split second just one heartbeat—his eyes found hers.
His gaze didn't linger.
No smirk. No reaction.
Just… indifference.
Calculated, rehearsed indifference.
And yet, it unsettled her more than anything else.
Her heart pounded.
Did he recognize her?
Why wasn't he saying anything?
Was he pretending not to know her?
"If you have any concerns during the semester, come to my office hours," he continued, flipping through the attendance list.
And then,
"Sofia Elenora Leclair?"
His eyes flicked to her, unreadable again.
Sofi opened her mouth. "Here…"
There was a flicker in his eyes. Recognition.
But he turned away instantly.
Nothing more.
But Sofi…
She was left with one thought, screaming in her mind:
He remembered.
"Sofia… Elenora Leclair."
That name.
The name I told everyone.
The name on every form, every ID, every roll call.
But my real name… is Elena.
Only I know that. Only a few people ever did.
And the way he said it—
My full name. So exact. So deliberate.
How?
I blinked, stunned, as a dozen thoughts raced through me.
What's his surname?
The question gnawed at me.
Should I just… ask?
Right here? Right now?
Everyone would stare. So what?
I've already looked like a total maniac in front of him—
Throwing myself in front of his car, for god's sake.
So what's a little more embarrassment?
But then another thought crept in...
What if he thinks I like him?
Would that matter?
I bit my lip.
No. I needed to know.
I made up my mind, heart racing.
And I stood up.
The chair creaked behind me.
"Excuse me, Professor…" I said, my voice more confident than I felt.
"What's your full name?"
The classroom went quiet.
A few heads turned. Even Amelia gave me a subtle nudge with her elbow, like "Sofi, what the hell are you doing?"
But I kept my eyes on him.
He looked up slowly from the register, pen still between his fingers.
For a second, he didn't answer—just stared at me.
Not cold.
Not amused.
Just… observing.
Like I was some sort of puzzle.
Then he blinked. Straightened up.
And with the faintest tilt of his head, said,
"Aidan. Aidan Vale."
A pause.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Then he added, like a challenge—
"Anything else you'd like to ask, Miss Leclair?"
My throat went dry.
Miss Leclair.
No one called me that. Not like that.
His voice carried something sharp… but smooth.
I shook my head quickly, barely able to hold eye contact.
"No, sir. That's… that's all."
He gave a slow nod, then went back to the register.
Like nothing had just happened.
But something had.
Because now I knew his name.
Aidan Vale.
I whispered it to myself silently as I sat down, the sound of it echoing in my head louder than it should.
______________________
Later that evening…
The room was quiet—Amelia and Lyra were out, and for once, Sofi was alone.
She sat by the window, the pale gold of the setting sun streaking across the floor. With slow, deliberate hands, she pulled open the small locked drawer at the bottom of her desk.
Inside was a worn leather-bound diary. The corners were bent, the pages slightly crumpled with age and secrets.
Sofi held it for a moment, tracing her fingers along the edge like it was something sacred.
She exhaled softly and opened it.
The pages were filled in her delicate handwriting.
Dates, thoughts, memories… all stitched together like an unraveling thread of her life.
On one of the earlier pages, a childish scrawl read:
"I miss you, Mama and Papa. I don't know where you went."
Below it was a shaky drawing—a little house with smoke rising from the chimney, and a girl standing in front of it, alone.
Another page had dried tear stains.
"I wish someone believed me that night. I still hear the voices. I still see the fire in my dreams. They said it was an accident. But what if it wasn't?"
Sofi turned the pages slowly.
There were entries about her uncle and aunt the coldness in their eyes, the suffocating silence in that house.
Then came the decision to leave it all behind. To change her name.
To become Sofi not Elenora.
To start over.
And in between all those old scars, there were dreams.
"One day, I'll go back. I'll stand in front of that house again. I'll find out what really happened that night. I'll see if they're still there. And I won't be afraid this time."
Now, she flipped to a fresh page. The ink of the past still smelled faintly in the air.
She picked up her pen.
After a pause,
she wrote slowly:
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
28th July
10:04 PM
Today, I learned his name.
Aidan Vale.
It fits him. Dark. Controlled. Mysterious. A little dangerous.
Like a name you whisper when no one's around.
It's strange—I've met him only twice, but it feels like he's been walking around the edges of my mind for a while now.
First the traffic, then the hospital parking lot, and now… he's my TA.
Is this really coincidence? Or something else?
And the way he said my name… Elenora Leclair.
No one calls me that anymore.
No one's supposed to know it.
So why did it sound so right when it came from his mouth?
I told myself I was done thinking about strangers.
But maybe he isn't one anymore.
Maybe… he's about to become a part of this story too.
Sofi stared at what she'd written. Her heart was racing, but her chest felt lighter.
She closed the diary and locked it back in the drawer.
Whatever happened next,
Aidan Vale was now in her world.
And that changed everything.
__________________________
The next day...
Sofi wasn't expecting to run into him again so soon.
The sky was grey, casting a cool light over the university grounds.
Students were scattered across the quad, rushing to classes, headphones in, coffee cups in hand.
She was walking briskly, half-lost in thought, her fingers wrapped around the strap of her bag, when—
"Leclair."
That voice.
She froze.
It wasn't loud but it cut through the noise like a knife. She turned around slowly.
Aidan Vale stood under the covered corridor, holding a stack of books against his chest, his head tilted slightly, like he'd been observing her for a while. His hair was slightly tousled from the wind, his eyes unreadable.
"Do you always ask for people's full names in the middle of lectures?" he said, one brow raised.
Sofi's stomach twisted. "I—uh… I didn't mean to be rude."
He walked closer, slowly. Each step deliberate.
"No, you weren't rude," he said. "Just… curious."
There was something in the way he looked at her too aware.
As if he already knew something about her that he shouldn't.
Like he could see right through the fake name, the calm exterior.
Sofi forced a small smile. "I'm just… good with names."
"Hm." He looked at her bag. "Good with secrets, too?"
Her heart skipped. "Excuse me?"
Aidan stepped beside her now, close enough for her to notice the faint scent of something warm and clean cedarwood and ink. His voice lowered.
"Nothing. Just something in your eyes tells me… there's more to you than what you let people see."
He looked straight ahead and started to walk, but then—paused.
"Oh. By the way," he added over his shoulder.
"There's an extra research session tomorrow evening.
I'd suggest you attend.
There's… some material I think you'll find very relevant."
"Relevant to what?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Aidan glanced back eyes sharp, amused.
"To you, of course."
And then he was gone, leaving Sofi standing there.
"Wait," I called out, louder than I meant to.
He stopped mid-step, but didn't turn around right away.
The corridor had emptied out around us. It was just him and me now, in a strangely still pocket of the afternoon.
He finally turned, slowly his expression unreadable. "Yes?"
I hesitated. God, what am I even doing?
But the words came out anyway. "Why did you say that? That there's more to me?"
He looked at me for a long beat eyes narrowing, almost like he was trying to decide something.
Then he took a few steps back toward me, the distance between us shrinking again until he was just a few feet away.
"I notice things," he said simply.
"That's not an answer," I shot back.
He gave a low, amused sound almost a laugh. But his eyes stayed sharp. Serious.
"You keep your walls up high, Leclair. You act like you're blending in, but you watch everyone like you're waiting for something to happen."
That stung. Not because it was harsh, but because it was… true.
"And maybe," he added quietly, leaning just slightly closer, "I'm curious too."
"About what?" I whispered, my voice barely a thread.
His gaze flicked to my eyes, then lowered, just for a second, like he could see through me. Then he straightened.
"Come to the research session," he said again. "You'll get your answer."
Then, before I could speak again, he turned and walked away for real this time.
Leaving me breathless, confused, and a little terrified of what I'd just stepped into.
That research session… I'm coming.
After our first class ended, I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed Amelia and Lyra by the wrists, tugging them along before they could question anything.
"Where are we going?" Lyra asked, laughing.
"You'll see," I muttered.
We walked down the corridor, my steps faster than usual, my heart keeping pace.
Something about this felt reckless. Stupid. Bold.
But I didn't care.
The classroom for the research group was tucked deeper into the academic wing.
It wasn't one of the regular lecture halls—smaller, quieter. And when I pushed open the door, I realized we weren't early.
We were late.
The room had already filled with students. A subtle hum of voices filled the space as heads turned toward us. I felt the weight of curious stares, but I kept walking, chin lifted.
Amelia elbowed me lightly. "Sofi, what is this? We're not even signed up—"
"I'll handle it," I whispered.
And then, I saw him.
Aidan.
Standing near the whiteboard, dressed in black again dark jeans, sleeves pushed to his elbows, a watch glinting on his wrist as he adjusted the projector.
His eyes flicked to the door.
And when he saw me, he didn't look surprised.
He looked like he knew I'd show up.
That smug, unreadable calm on his face tightened something in my chest.
I dragged my eyes away and led the girls to three empty seats in the middle row.
We sat down, and for a moment, I tried to act normal.
As if I hadn't dreamed about him.
As if I hadn't asked for his full name in front of an entire class.
As if I wasn't burning inside to figure him out.
Then his voice cut through the quiet.
"Glad to see some new faces," he said, gaze lingering a second longer on me.
"Let's get started."
The lights dimmed, and a slide glowed onto the board behind him.
"Psychological impact of suppressed memory trauma."
I froze.
My breath caught as I stared at the title.
My fingers slowly curled into fists over the notebook in my lap.
Is this coincidence?
Or did he already know more than I thought?
And if he did…
Why wasn't I leaving?
Why was I leaning forward, heart pounding, wanting to know everything?
I kept quiet…
Watching everything silently.
The way Aidan moved around the front of the class measured, calm, like he owned every second of the silence between his words.
He didn't use notes.
Didn't glance at a screen.
He just spoke like he knew what it meant to live inside the mind he was describing.
As if trauma wasn't just something he studied,
…but something he remembered.
My heart thudded quietly beneath my ribs.
Around me, students took notes, whispered softly to one another.
Amelia scribbled something furiously.
Lyra leaned in toward the projector's glow.
But I just… watched.
Watched him.
And the way certain words lingered when he said them:
"Suppressed."
"Disassociation."
"Buried memory."
"Identity."
Like echoes in a hallway I hadn't walked through in years.
My fingers moved restlessly over my journal in my lap.
Not writing. Just tracing lines over its worn edges.
Does he know?
No. He can't. He doesn't even know me.
And yet, I felt exposed.
Not because of what he said.
But how he said it.
His eyes flicked up for a second and caught mine.
Just one glance.
But it was enough to send a shiver crawling up my spine.
He knows I'm watching him.
Worse?
He doesn't seem to mind.
Aidan turned toward the class, leaning against the edge of the desk with a pen between his fingers.
"Trauma isn't always loud," he said.
"Sometimes it's quiet. Dormant. A scar that speaks when no one's listening."
His voice dropped just enough to make the room still.
Even the air felt like it paused.
Then his eyes shifted across the room.
And landed on me.
I straightened instinctively. My breath caught.
He tilted his head slightly.
That unreadable gaze fixed on me like he already knew the answer to the question he hadn't asked yet.
"Sofia," he said.
My name sounded… deliberate on his tongue.
Not 'Sofi',the name everyone else called me.
But Sofia.
Full. Unfiltered.
"Would you say silence is a survival instinct… or a surrender?"
The room was too quiet. Even Amelia looked at me.
But all I could hear was the blood rushing through my ears.
His question wasn't about the lecture anymore.
It was about me.
I opened my mouth, unsure what would come out.
But somehow, my voice held steady.
"Sometimes it's both," I said quietly.
"Survival… disguised as surrender."
Aidan didn't react for a second.
Then something in his jaw tightened—just slightly before he nodded once.
"Well said."
He moved on.
But I didn't.
Because something passed between us just now. Something quiet.
But not small.
I lowered my eyes, pretending to take notes, but I wasn't writing.
Just breathing.
And wondering
What the hell just happened?
The moment the session ended, chairs scraped, voices rose, and students began filing out. I stood slowly, walking beside Amelia and Lyra as we moved toward the door.
But my mind wasn't walking with me.
It was stuck back there at that moment.
At his words.
"Sofia."
He'd said it like he already knew me.
Like he was waiting for something to fall into place.
I glanced back once, half-expecting to catch him looking.
But Aidan Vale was talking to another student, calm, composed like he hadn't just triggered something in me I hadn't felt in years.
Was that why he told me to come to the research session?
So I'd sit there and listen to a lecture about trauma?
So I'd be forced to face mine?
Sure, to everyone else it sounded like a well-prepared academic session facts, patterns, coping mechanisms.
But for me…
It wasn't just a lecture.
It was personal.
Like every word had been aimed straight at the memories I had buried so deep I forgot how much they hurt.
Does he know what happened to me?
My past… could he possibly know about it?
But how?
I've never told anyone not even Amelia and Lyra.
The way he spoke about fear… about silence…
It was too specific.
Almost like he'd been there.
I rubbed my hands together, trying to push the cold prickle away from my skin.
He was teaching people how to overcome trauma…
But for me, it wasn't educational. It was… haunting.
Like my past was sitting across the room from me.
Watching.
I couldn't stop the question rising in my chest like wildfire.
What is going on?
And more terrifying,
Who exactly is Aidan Vale…
and why does he feel like a ghost from a story I haven't finished telling?
____________________________