The air outside the chapel had that sharp, wake-you-up kind of chill, but Niah barely noticed. She was perched on the stone steps, knees hugged tight to her chest, scarf wound around her neck like she was bracing for a storm. The world kept spinning, birds darted through the trees, someone was sweeping somewhere nearby, and the usual background hum of life. But inside her, it was pure chaos.
Esme's voice echoed in her head. Esme's eyes haunted her. And then there was that other face, one that wasn't hers, but somehow was.
Niah pressed her forehead to her knees and let out a long, shaky breath, hoping she could quiet the mess swirling inside her chest.
"I don't even look like her," she muttered, voice barely more than a sigh. "Then how can I be her?"
The vision had shown her a version of herself that was all grace and magic and belonging. Esme had moved like she was spun from moonlight and old legends. And Niah, she was the girl who couldn't find her shoes in the morning, who stumbled over her own words and tripped on her own thoughts. Esme was someone who spoke, and the world listened. Niah mumbled and hoped no one noticed.
It just didn't add up. Not even close.
She pulled out her phone, switched to selfie mode, and stared at her reflection. Tired eyes. Curls that looked like they'd given up halfway through the night. Shadows under her lashes. No magic here. An ordinary girl. Completely unremarkable. Just Niah.
And yet...
Her fingers still buzzed from the vision. There was a hum in her chest, something restless. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the cool stone under Esme's bare feet, the weight of that moonlit robe on her shoulders.
But believing it was a whole different story. She wasn't there yet. Maybe she never would be.
"How do you accept a version of yourself that feels like it belongs to someone else?" she whispered, the words barely making it past her lips.
A voice cut through her thoughts, gentle but sure.
"Maybe she never really left," Dr Thorne said, suddenly there beside her.
Niah blinked, startled, but didn't pull away. Dr Thorne sat down, not touching, just close enough that Niah could feel her steady presence.
"She's not here to replace you," Thorne said, her voice soft. "You're not two people. You're one. She's you, underneath everything life's piled on top. She's the roots. You're the leaves."
Niah stared at the path ahead, silent for a long moment.
"Then why does it feel like I've stolen her life?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Like I don't deserve any of this."
Thorne looked at her, eyes kind and searching. "Because you haven't remembered all of her yet. And because you're still clinging to who you think you're supposed to be."
She paused, then let a crooked smile slip onto her face. "And maybe," she added, "because you're just a little bit stubborn."
Niah let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sob. She did not have the answers. She wasn't even sure she wanted them yet. But one thing was clear: if she was ever going to accept Esme, if she was ever going to become her previous self again, it had to be on her own terms, not because of a vision or because of some prophecy.
Piece by piece. In her own time. That was the only way forward.
* * *