She snatched the workbook from her nightstand, flipping to the page where their last exchange had ended. Her pen hovered only briefly before she scrawled furiously:
What did you do? How did this get here?
The response came swiftly, sharp as if written in panic:
I gave it to you just now. I left it in the workbook for you. You were crying in class today. I wanted you to remember that you're not alone.
Emma's breath hitched. She closed her eyes, tears burning against her lashes.
Class. Today.
On his side of time, Ethan was still a boy at a desk, watching her doodle lilacs in the margins. On her side, he was a man who had betrayed every promise he had ever made.
Yet through this impossible bridge, the boy had reached out—and the gift was real.
She pressed the pendant to her lips, the warmth of it mingling with the ache in her heart. Memory and reality were colliding, and she could feel the pull of a past that refused to stay buried.