Sleep?
Yeah, that didn't happen.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it again —
the note, the photo, the letters
C.N.R.,
and that word that had started it all April.
What did it mean?
Why did he say *"you'll understand when you remember April"?
By morning, I looked like a panda who'd lost a fight with a coffee machine. ☕ ⋆⋅☆
"Whoa," Riya said the second she saw me at the gate. "Who hurt you? Tell me their name and favorite ice cream flavor — I'm taking revenge."
"Not funny," I mumbled, yawning.
Trent leaned on his bike. "She stayed up thinking about the boy again."
Riya gasped dramatically. "Siena! Romance alert!"
"Not romance," I said. "It's—complicated."
"Complicated romance then," Trent corrected.
I groaned. "You both are impossible."
In Class 💭*
The boy wasn't there.
His seat by the window was empty again.
My heart sank a little, and I hated that it did.
Stop it, Siena. You're supposed to be solving a mystery, not catching feelings for it.
The day crawled on until lunch, and as soon as the bell rang, Riya dragged me and Mirai to the library.
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💌 𝐋ibrary 📖📚
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Library Scene — The Clue Shelf 📚
"Okay," Riya said, flipping through an old yearbook. "We're looking for anything that says April. Festival, club name, anything."
Mirai handed me a yellowed notebook. "Try this one. Looks like it's from the old photography club."
I opened it — most of the pages were filled with doodles and names… until one line at the bottom caught my eye.
April 12 — C.N.R. submitted final project. Theme: "Things we forget.
My throat tightened.
Mirai leaned closer. "Wait, did it say… C.N.R.?"
I nodded. "Yeah. And the theme was… 'Things we forget.'"
Riya whispered, "That can't be coincidence."
My heart was pounding now.
Things we forget.
Don't forget.
April.
It all circled back.
After School 🌧️*
The rain had returned again — soft, silver, endless.
I found him near the old notice board, as if he'd been waiting.
"April 12," I said. "That date. It's written in the old club book."
He didn't react, not at first.
Then, softly: "So you found it."
"What happened that day?" I asked. "Why do you keep telling me not to forget?"
He looked at the sky, the light reflecting in his eyes. "Because you were there too."
My breath hitched. "What?"
He finally looked at me, that faint smile returning — but this time, it looked almost sad.
"April 12," he said quietly, "was the day you made the promise."
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I opened my mouth to ask more, but the bell rang, echoing down the empty halls.
When I turned back, he was gone — again.
Only the rain stayed, and the soft whisper of my heartbeat.
A promise?
What promise?
The paper in my hand felt heavier now, like it was holding a memory I wasn't ready to see.
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Tell me your theory below! ⬇️
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