Before the lights, before the cameras, before the word yes, there was only noise inside their heads.
Marielle Morgan, known to her friends as Elle lived with a secret no one would ever believe.
She saw lives that weren't hers. Moments that belonged to strangers: a neighbour kissing someone else's wife, Camila planning a surprise birthday for her, a soldier bleeding out under a sky she'd never seen. The visions came without warnings, like film reels. Clear and unstoppable.
It started when she was nine. She would wake up crying, calling out names she didn't know.
Her grandmother said the women in their bloodline were born with borrowed eyes. She called it a gift.
Her parents called it a phase.
But fifteen years later, the visions hadn't stopped.
And Elle called it a curse.
They came when she least expected them: crossing the street, brushing her teeth, touching someone by accident, even during an exam. Once, she saw a room burning, flames rising higher and higher until she could barely breathe.
Later that day, the same fire appeared on the news. A baby had died.
She learned to survive it: breathing slowly, waiting until the flashes passed. She learned not to tell anyone what she saw. The world didn't have room for people who saw too much. Only Camila knew.
Camila had seen her freeze mid-laugh, eyes distant, chasing someone else's memories. She never asked questions. She just held Elle's hand and waited until she came back.
To everyone else, Elle was just another writer who lived in New York city. Caffeine-fueled, and always looked like she got it together. But her normal wasn't built for ordinary things. She lived among echoes, collecting the pieces of other people's lives.
That night, she'd promised herself things would be different.
No visions. No ghosts. Just popcorn, peace, and another episode of The Crowned Heart.
But fate never listens to promises.
*****
Across the city, Damian Blackwell was trying to hold his world together.
He'd been trained to lead since he could walk.
Born to legacy, raised for power, he'd built his life on control. But control didn't help when your empire was crumbling.
Blackwell Enterprises had barely survived a scandal the year before, and now the investors were restless. The board wanted him to fix the company's image. They didn't care how; marriage or another carefully staged headline.
Tonight's gala was supposed to be another performance. Champagne. Cameras. Perfect smiles.
But the moment Damian stepped inside, none of that mattered.
Because he saw her.
A woman in a black dress, holding a notebook like it was her armor. She didn't belong there, and maybe that was why he couldn't look away. Her eyes met his and something inside him went still. He didn't even know her name, but his heart recognized her before his mind caught up.
He was supposed to propose to someone else that night—a woman his PR team had chosen, perfect for the headlines. But before he could think, his body was already moving towards her.
Every step felt like death. His uncle's glare burned into his back, the press leaned forward with their cameras, but Damian didn't care. When he reached her, the noise in his head, the pressure, the expectations, finally stopped.
And for one quiet moment, he could breathe again.
Later, people would ask Elle why she said yes.
She wouldn't know how to explain it. Maybe it was the panic in his eyes. Maybe it was the way the world went silent, waiting for her answer. Or maybe it was the strange vision in her mind, the same one that had haunted her since childhood, telling her they had been here before.
By the time the cameras flashed, their fates were already sealed.
And neither of them had any idea what the word yes would cost.