Suddenly Maria woke up from her sleep with teary eyes–
"Is that a dream😭" she said with a pain
"Noo!!"
"The closeness?"
"His voice?"
"And...the last words of his... Everything that happened from the start is not a coincidence"
"Is all a dream!!??"
She cried so much that the Dream felt so real...
She buried her face into the pillow, clutching it like it could anchor her back to whatever she had just lost.
Her chest felt heavy. Too heavy for a dream.
"If it was just a dream…" she whispered into the darkness, her voice breaking, "why does it hurt like this?"
The room was silent. No footsteps. No voice calling her name. Only the faint hum of the fan and the sound of her uneven breathing. Her eyes burned, tears slipping down again no matter how hard she tried to stop them.
She sat up slowly, hugging her knees to her chest.
Every detail replayed in her mind—
the way he looked at her,
the warmth of his presence,
the closeness that felt forbidden yet familiar,
and those last words… the ones that echoed the loudest.
Words a dream shouldn't remember so clearly.
Her fingers trembled as she touched her wrist, half-expecting to feel his hand there again. But there was nothing. Just cold air. Just reality.
"Why…" she whispered, staring at the wall. "Why did you feel so real?"
A tear dropped onto the bedsheet, then another. She didn't wipe them away this time. She let them fall, because holding them back hurt more than crying.
Dreams weren't supposed to leave scars.
Dreams weren't supposed to make your heart ache like it was mourning someone real.
She glanced at the clock. 3:17 a.m.
The same time as in the dream.
Her breath hitched.
"No…" she muttered, shaking her head. "That's just a coincidence. It has to be."
But deep down, something refused to believe that.
Her heart knew something her mind was trying to deny.
She stood up and walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside. The street outside was quiet, bathed in dim yellow light. Everything looked normal. Too normal. As if the world had moved on without caring that her chest felt like it was collapsing.
"If you were just a dream," she said softly, almost pleading, "why do I miss you?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered.
She pressed her forehead against the glass, closing her eyes. For a brief second, she almost felt him again—his presence lingering like a memory that didn't belong to sleep.
And that scared her.
Because dreams fade.
But this… this was staying.
Maria slid down to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself. Her tears slowed, turning into quiet sobs.
Somewhere between the pain and confusion, a realization began to form—slow, terrifying, undeniable.
Maybe the dream wasn't meant to be forgotten.
Maybe it wasn't a dream at all.
And if that was true…
Then waking up wasn't the end.
It was only the beginning.
Maria didn't know how long she sat there on the floor.
Minutes?
Hours?
Time felt strange—like it had thinned out, like it was waiting for her to notice something.
She wiped her face slowly and stood up, her legs weak. The room still felt unfamiliar, as if she had returned to it after years instead of hours. Her eyes moved on their own, scanning every corner, every shadow—half-expecting to see him standing there, leaning casually, looking at her the way he did in the dream.
She let out a shaky laugh.
"See… you're losing it," she told herself. "It was just a dream."
But her heart didn't agree.
As she turned back toward the bed, something caught her eye.
She froze.
On the small table beside the bed lay her phone. The screen was lit.
That alone made her uneasy—she was sure she had locked it before sleeping.
Her steps were slow, cautious, like she was approaching something fragile.
She picked it up, her fingers trembling.
One notification.
An unknown number.
Timestamp: 3:17 a.m.
Her throat went dry.
"No…" she whispered. "This isn't funny."
She stared at the screen for a long second, then longer. Her mind screamed for logic—wrong number, spam, coincidence. Anything but the truth her chest was bracing for.
With a deep breath, she opened it.
Unknown:
Did it hurt… waking up?
His world tilted.
The phone nearly slipped from her hand.
That sentence—
those exact words—
they were the last thing he had said to her in the dream.
Her breathing turned shallow. Her ears rang. She sank onto the bed, clutching the phone like proof that she wasn't imagining things.
"This isn't possible," she murmured. "You're not real. You can't be."
Another message appeared.
Unknown:
You cried in your sleep.
Tears welled up again, uninvited.
"How do you know that?" she typed, then erased it. Her fingers hovered, hesitating, before she finally sent:
M
aria:
Who are you?
The typing indicator appeared almost instantly.
Three dots.
Then vanished.
Then appeared again.
Her heart pounded so loud she was sure the whole room could hear it.
Finally, the reply came.
Unknown:
"Someone who wasn't supposed to exist in your world."
Her chest tightened.
Images from the dream flooded back—the way he looked at her like he already knew how this would end, the sadness hidden behind his smile, the warning in his eyes.
Her hands shook as she typed again.
Maria:
"Then why do I remember you?"
There was a pause this time. A long one. Long enough for fear to creep in, for doubt to whisper that this was some cruel trick.
Then—
Unknown:
Because you weren't supposed to wake up yet.
Her breath caught.
"What does that mean?" she whispered aloud, even as her fingers typed the same question.
No immediate reply.
She waited.
Counted her breaths.
Felt her heart slam against her ribs.
Then her phone buzzed again.
Unknown:
Maria… that dream was a door.
Her eyes burned as she read it.
A door.
Not an escape.
Not a fantasy.
An entrance.
She pressed her lips together, fighting the sudden fear rising in her chest.
Maria:
Into what?
The reply came slower this time, heavier—like it carried a weight she wasn't ready to hold.
Unknown:
Into the truth.
Her phone vibrated once more, but this message was different. It wasn't text.
It was a location.
Her stomach dropped.
Maria:
Why are you sending me this?
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the final message appeared.
Unknown:
Because what you felt wasn't coincidence.
And because if you ignore this…
you'll forget me forever.
Tears slid down her cheeks again, but this time they weren't just from pain.
They were from fear.
From longing.
From the terrifying realization that whatever she had dreamed of was reaching back for her—and asking her to choose.
Maria stared at the glowing screen, her heart torn between running away and stepping forward.
to lighten.
Morning was coming.
And with it, a decision that would change everything.
——×——×——×——×——×——×—–
Thank you so muchhh for reading my novel guysssss ✨🎀
Please support me!!!💫
Let's see who's that person and whether she went to that place or not in the next chapter until then byee..!!🤍🌙🪐
Secret★:In real life the Dreams are real, the pain are real,the regret are real and every emotions that she felt in this is real.