The afternoon sun hung low, its amber rays slanting through the lace curtains and spilling over the polished wooden floor. The light flickered gently as a breeze stirred the fabric, scattering moving patterns across the walls — shadows that danced like whispers of forgotten days.
Celine sat curled up on the sofa, legs tucked beneath her, her phone resting in her palm. The device felt heavier than usual, as though it understood the weight of the moment.
Her thumb hovered above the glowing screen, frozen midair.
The contact list stared back — a neat column of names, each one a door to another time. Some brought a flicker of warmth; others carried the sting of guilt. Every name was a ghost.
For the longest time, she simply stared at them.
The room was silent except for the faint ticking of a clock on the far wall — steady, patient, relentless. The air still carried the faint scent of rain from that morning's drizzle, mixing with the lingering perfume of jasmine from the garden outside. It was peaceful, but the peace felt fragile, as though one deep breath could break it.
It was the first quiet afternoon she'd had in months. No calls from Kael. No meetings. No expectations. Just stillness — the kind of stillness that leaves you alone with your thoughts.
And lately, her thoughts had turned toward the past.
Toward the people she'd left behind.
Her thumb scrolled slowly, eyes flicking down the screen until one name stopped her breath.
Mara.
The memory came unbidden — Mara's easy laugh echoing in her ears, the warmth of her presence, the countless nights they had spent whispering secrets and fears over cheap wine and half-finished takeout. Mara, the petite omega with a heart far too kind for this world, whose curls framed her face like sunlight caught in motion.
They had been inseparable once.
Until silence replaced words.
A single misunderstanding had turned into distance. Pride had turned that distance into a wall.
And Celine — or perhaps Elara, back then — had been too lost in her own storm to reach across it.
Now, as she stared at Mara's name glowing softly on her screen, her throat tightened.
She wanted to fix it. To bridge the silence that had stretched too long.
But fear whispered from the back of her mind.
What if she doesn't forgive you?
Celine's thumb trembled as she began to type.
"Hey, Mara. It's Celine. I know it's been a long time. I'm sorry for everything. I want to make things right. Can we meet?"
Her heartbeat quickened as she read the message once, twice. Every word felt both too much and not enough.
Finally, with a shaky exhale, she pressed send.
The message whooshed away into the digital void, leaving her staring at the empty screen, her reflection faintly visible on the glass.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the phone vibrated softly in her hand.
A reply appeared.
"Celine! I've missed you. Of course, let's meet soon."
Her breath caught.
A small, trembling smile broke across her lips. It was the kind of smile that comes after weeks of gray sky — sudden and tender, almost fragile.
She read the message again, then again, as if afraid it might vanish.
Mara's words glowed warmly on the screen, and for the first time in a long time, something inside her eased.
Encouraged, she opened her contacts once more.
Jon. Elsie. Nora. Caleb.
Each name stirred memories — laughter, arguments, birthday dinners, midnight confessions. The faces that had once filled her world, now tucked away behind digital silence.
She hesitated again, then began to type — messages short and sincere.
"Hey. It's Celine. I've missed you."
"I'm sorry I disappeared."
"Can we talk?"
When she hit send on the last one, she let the phone fall gently onto her lap. Her chest felt lighter and heavier all at once.
Outside, the wind carried the faint hum of the city — distant, comforting, alive.
For the first time in months, Celine felt connected to it.
The sun dipped lower, casting longer shadows across the room. Golden turned to honey, then to amber, softening the edges of everything it touched.
Celine leaned back into the sofa, her gaze drifting toward the window.
Somewhere out there, life was moving on. People were laughing, falling in love, making plans. And for the first time since she'd awakened in this borrowed body, she didn't feel like a ghost watching from behind glass.
Her phone buzzed again.
More replies, one after another — small bursts of light across the screen.
"It's been forever! Let's meet up soon!"
"We were just talking about you!"
"I'd love to catch up. When are you free?"
Her hand covered her mouth as a quiet laugh escaped her.
It was a sound she hadn't heard from herself in so long.
The loneliness that had haunted her for months loosened its grip. It didn't vanish — it never truly did — but it finally began to make room for something else. Something new.
Hope.
For a long while, she sat there, rereading their messages, her lips curving in soft disbelief. She didn't realize how much she'd missed this — the simple warmth of being remembered.
The vintage clock on the wall ticked steadily on. Its sound no longer felt oppressive. It sounded alive.
Celine set the phone aside and let her eyes close.
A faint breeze rustled the curtains, brushing against her skin like a gentle touch. The air smelled of earth and rain, sweetened by the blooming jasmine outside.
She took a deep breath and smiled to herself.
Maybe this was what healing felt like — not loud or dramatic, but quiet and slow, like sunlight finding its way through cracks.
For so long, she had been defined by endings — by loss, by disconnection, by the hollow ache of things unsaid.
But now, there was a beginning.
A small one, yes, but real.
She would meet them again. Hear their laughter. Feel their warmth.
And maybe, just maybe, start to feel like herself again.
As the light dimmed and the first stars began to appear outside her window, Celine reached for her phone one last time.
She opened Mara's message, reading it again, her smile soft but steady.
"Of course, let's meet soon."
Her fingers brushed across the screen like a promise.
Soon.