The morning after the storm felt too clean.
Rainwater still rested along the edges of the roads outside, reflecting pale sunlight whenever the clouds shifted overhead. Wet leaves moved softly in the breeze near the apartment entrance, and somewhere below, the sound of dripping water echoed steadily from overflowing rooftops.
Everything looked calmer.
Washed.
Like the city had forgotten what happened last night.
I hadn't.
I stood near the kitchen window holding a glass of water I hadn't touched for almost five minutes while the memory of the dream kept replaying inside my head.
The corridor.
The purple light.
Grace.
And Nash's voice cutting through everything like it had reached somewhere deeper than sleep.
My phone remained on the counter beside me.
Two messages still open.
"I had a strange dream."
"Did you too?"
I still hadn't replied.
Not because I didn't want to.
Because I didn't know how.
How do you answer something like that?
Yeah, by the way, I think reality is breaking around us.
I rubbed my face slowly.
Then—
"SOPHEN!"
I closed my eyes immediately.
Aurea.
Again.
"You've been standing there like a tragic side character for ten minutes," she said while walking into the kitchen.
"I'm drinking water."
"You're staring at it emotionally."
"That's not a real thing."
"It became real when you started doing it."
She opened the fridge, stared into it dramatically for a few seconds, then sighed like life had personally betrayed her.
"There's nothing to eat."
"There's literally food inside."
"That's ingredient food. I want ready-made happiness."
"That explains why you survive on junk food."
"And yet I'm thriving."
"You almost tripped over air yesterday."
"That was a tactical fall."
I shook my head slightly, finally taking a sip of water.
Aurea looked at me again more carefully this time.
"You didn't sleep properly."
"You sound forty."
"You look haunted."
That word stayed longer than it should have.
Maybe because it felt too close to the truth.
By afternoon, the sunlight had softened behind drifting clouds while traces of last night's rain still lingered across the pathways outside. The air smelled fresh, damp, strangely calm.
I found Nash sitting near the garden wall spinning a basketball lazily against the pavement.
"You look terrible," he said immediately.
"You say that every day."
"And somehow every day I'm more correct."
"That confidence is dangerous."
"It's earned."
I sat beside him quietly while children played somewhere near the opposite building. The world sounded painfully normal today.
Birds.
Traffic.
Distant laughter.
Meanwhile my mind still felt stuck somewhere inside that corridor.
"You gonna keep staring into space or actually speak today?" Nash asked.
"I am speaking."
"Barely. You've looked emotionally unavailable since morning."
"That's rich coming from you."
"True."
The basketball slowed near his feet before stopping completely.
I looked ahead for a few seconds before finally asking quietly:
"Did you call my name last night?"
Nash blinked once.
"What?"
"In the storm."
He looked genuinely confused now.
"I was asleep."
"You sure?"
"Yes?" he replied slowly. "Why would I randomly yell your name at two in the morning?"
I looked down at the puddles reflecting the sky.
"…nothing."
But now my chest felt tighter somehow.
Because if Nash hadn't called me—
then why did his voice feel so real?
"You two always look like you're discussing the meaning of life."
I looked up immediately.
Grace.
Beside her, Siena walked quietly with both hands tucked inside the sleeves of her oversized hoodie while the breeze moved softly through her dark hair.
And for a moment—
Grace looked just as tired as I felt.
"Nash is failing emotionally again," I said.
"That sounds serious," Grace replied softly.
"It is," Nash nodded gravely. "I'm a very emotionally available person."
"No you're not," Siena said quietly.
Nash looked genuinely offended.
"Siena, that hurt me deeply."
"You'll survive."
"That lack of faith is heartbreaking."
Grace laughed softly beside her sister.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
And somehow hearing it made something inside me loosen again.
Like warmth naturally followed her without trying.
A few minutes later Axel appeared carrying cold drinks like he had subconsciously accepted responsibility for keeping this group functional.
"I leave you people alone for one hour and somehow the atmosphere becomes depressing," he said while handing Siena one of the cans.
"We bring emotional depth," Nash replied.
"You bring property damage levels of emotional instability."
"That feels targeted."
"It was meant to."
Even Siena smiled slightly at that.
Small.
But real.
The group slowly settled near the garden wall while sunlight filtered softly through the trees overhead. Water still glistened faintly across the pathways from the storm, turning gold whenever sunlight reached it through the leaves.
For a while, things almost felt normal again.
Comfortable.
Aurea arrived halfway through carrying chips and immediately stopped after looking at all of us.
"Okay seriously," she said slowly, "why does this group always feel one sentence away from an emotional breakdown?"
Nobody answered.
Aurea looked around suspiciously.
"Oh my God."
"What?" Nash asked.
"You're all being weird again."
"That's a strong accusation."
"Sophen looks sleep-deprived, Grace looks like she knows something she won't say, Siena keeps listening to invisible people, Axel looks like he's solving a murder case, and you—"
She pointed at Nash.
"—look suspiciously calm."
Nash nodded once.
"That's because I'm mentally superior."
"You ate six sandwiches at the picnic."
"That has nothing to do with this."
Axel looked toward him. "You also stole my fries."
"I was preserving resources."
"You took food from everyone."
"I lead through sacrifice."
"That sentence doesn't even make sense," Grace laughed.
And just like that—
the tension cracked slightly.
Not fully.
But enough for everyone to breathe again.
Then Grace spoke quietly.
"So…"
Everyone looked toward her instinctively.
She hesitated slightly before continuing.
"Did anyone else not sleep properly?"
Silence settled again.
Smaller this time.
But heavier.
"I slept perfectly," Nash said confidently.
"Of course you did," Grace muttered.
"That sounded judgmental."
"You were unconscious before we even got home."
"That's called efficiency."
Axel looked up from his drink. "You also slept through Aurea throwing chips at you."
"That happened once."
"It happened five times," Aurea corrected.
"You people bully me emotionally."
"No," Siena said quietly.
"This is honesty."
A small laugh escaped Grace again.
But this time when she looked toward me—
there was uncertainty beneath it.
The same uncertainty I felt.
Then Siena suddenly went still.
Completely still.
The wind moved softly through the trees overhead.
Her eyes shifted upward slightly.
Listening.
Grace noticed immediately.
"You hear it again?" she asked softly.
Siena stayed quiet for a second longer.
Then nodded faintly.
"I heard you last night."
Everything inside me stopped.
Grace looked at Siena instantly.
"What do you mean?"
Siena frowned slightly like she was trying to understand it herself.
"It didn't sound normal," she said quietly. "It sounded far away."
The breeze suddenly felt colder.
Axel looked between all of us carefully now.
Thinking.
Watching.
Nash's expression shifted slightly too.
Focused.
Then Aurea suddenly stood up dramatically.
"Nope."
Everyone looked toward her.
"I officially reject whatever creepy conversation this is."
"That's fair," Nash replied immediately.
"You people sound like side characters before something terrible happens."
"That's oddly specific," Axel said.
"I've watched enough movies to survive this."
"You'd die first," Nash told her.
Aurea threw a chip at him instantly.
And somehow—
that tiny stupid moment made reality feel normal again for a few seconds.
Later that evening, the group slowly dispersed one by one until eventually only Grace and I remained near the corridor entrance while everyone else walked ahead.
The sunset had faded into deep blue now, city lights slowly appearing across distant apartment windows while cool air drifted softly through the corridor railings.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then quietly—
"It felt real."
I looked toward her.
She wasn't looking at me.
She was staring toward the darkening sky beyond the building.
"The dream," she said softly.
"I know."
Silence again.
Not awkward.
Just heavy.
"I thought maybe I imagined it," she admitted quietly.
"You didn't."
That answer came too quickly.
Too honestly.
Grace finally looked toward me then.
And for a second—
something unspoken passed between us again.
Not fear.
Not comfort.
Something in between.
Like standing at the edge of something neither of us understood yet.
Then voices echoed from downstairs.
Reality returning again.
Grace looked away first.
"We should go."
"Yeah."
But neither of us moved immediately.
Because somehow—
walking away felt harder now.