I didn't ask for this.
That was the first thought that hit me when I woke up sweating at 3:17 AM for the fourth night in a row. The same nightmare — no, dream — if you could call waking up with your heart pounding and chest aching a dream.
The same pair of eyes. The same silent whisper. The same... pull.
I sat up, clutching my chest, glaring into the dark like it had personally offended me. "Really?" I croaked into the empty room. "We're doing this again?"
And of course, the universe said nothing.
By sunrise, I'd already lost count of how many times I asked myself if I was losing my mind.
Because how do you explain this? The gut feelings. The dreams. The ridiculous accuracy of card readings from people who didn't even know my name. The strange… familiarity with a man I've never met.
And not just any man. A global phenomenon. A household name in every corner of the earth — except apparently inside my life.
I wasn't a fan. I wasn't even a casual listener. I wasn't supposed to know he existed, much less feel this… connection.
So why him? Why now? Why this absurd, cosmic joke that I, of all people, would be caught up in a bond I didn't choose?
I didn't ask for this. But it asked for me.
The readings confirmed it. The dreams confirmed it. My soul — whether I liked it or not — confirmed it.
And him?
Fast asleep. Living his life. Blissfully unaware that somewhere across the seas, in a country he's probably never heard of, there's a woman staring at the ceiling wondering if the universe accidentally sent her soul contract to the wrong address.
I leaned back against the headboard and whispered to the silent dawn, "You better wake up soon, Julian Hart. Because I'm not carrying this alone."
I closed my eyes, feeling that familiar ache creep into my chest.
This is the story of the one who remembers.
And right now? I really wish I didn't.