The wind whispered through the trees.
The sky held its usual warm hue, the shadows of leaves dancing across the ground as if all was calm.
But.
Something crackled in the air—a wrongness.
Ethan froze, senses sharpened to blades.
This time, he wasn't in the empty park.
This time… he wasn't alone.
Time had looped back, dropping him here—right at the moment Iria had spoken those words.
Right where the timeline splintered.
"Something's off… I feel weird."
Her voice was exactly as he remembered—soft, raspy—but this time, he didn't let it slip by.
He didn't shrug it off.
He didn't let the moment dissolve into the fog of his memory.
"What do you feel exactly?" The question shot out, his voice sharper than he'd intended.
Iria turned to him, eyes widening like she hadn't expected him to bite. Like she'd grown used to him… not.
"I don't know," she mumbled, gaze dropping. Shadows pooled under her eyes. "It's like… I'm losing something."
Ethan frowned.
"How long've you felt like this?"
She hesitated. Her fingers dug into her skirt, lips trembling for a split second before she whispered:
"I don't know… Just… feels like I shouldn't be here."
A chill sliced down Ethan's spine.
Those words—shouldn't have gutted him. But they did.
Shouldn't be here.
Why?
As he stared at her, something twisted in his skull—
A jab, sharp and sudden, like a knife trying to pry its way out.
Then—
Memories.
Floodgates creaked open.
"How long have you felt like this?"
She hesitated. Her fingers dug into the hem of her skirt, lips trembling for a heartbeat before she whispered:
"I don't know… It's just… I feel like I shouldn't be here."
A chill razored down Ethan's spine.
Those words—shouldn't have hit him this hard. But they did.
Shouldn't be here.
Why?
As he stared at her, something split open in his mind—
A jab of pain, like a fist trying to punch its way out.
Then—
Memories.
Flooding.
No stopping them now.
— The Park and the Promise Not to Forget —
The afternoon sun bathed the sky in a soft orange glow.
The park wasn't empty, but the distant chatter of other children playing felt like a far-off echo—meaningless against the tiny world the two of them shared.
Ethan, no older than six or seven, swayed gently on a swing. The creak of the chains blended with the wind's whisper through the trees. Beside him, a girl his age sat on another swing.
But instead of pumping her legs, she let her toes barely brush the ground—little taps that sent dust swirling.
Her straight hair cascaded over her shoulders, reflecting the sunlight in soft glimmers.
Ethan couldn't recall her face clearly, but he remembered the feeling of her presence.
It was familiar. Warm.
"We always come here, don't we?" she asked suddenly, her voice sweet and light, as if recalling something distant.
Ethan slowed his swinging and looked at her.
"Yeah…" He paused for a moment, then added, "But one day, we might forget this place."
The girl turned to him, brow slightly furrowed. There was something in her expression that didn't belong on a child's face.
A gaze too sharp. Too certain.
"Then let's not forget," she said finally, voice steady as steel.
Ethan blinked, his chest tightening for no reason he could name.
"How?"
She smiled—quick, sure—and pulled something from her pocket: a smooth, unremarkable stone.
Nothing special.
But to her, it was everything.
— The Park and the Promise Not to Forget —
"Let's bury this here," she said eagerly, pointing to the dirt beneath the swings. "If we ever forget this place… we'll find the stone. And remember again."
Ethan watched her for a moment. He didn't get why, but something about that promise felt… big.
"Okay," he agreed finally, grinning.
With their tiny hands, they dug a small hole—just deep enough to hide their treasure—and tucked the stone inside.
Covered it back up, stomped the dirt flat like tiny conspirators.
She stared at the ground, satisfied, like they'd just hacked into the universe's secrets.
"Now, no matter what… this is our spot," she declared, voice ironclad. "And we'll never forget."
Ethan nodded, clueless that this promise would matter way more than he'd ever guess.
— The Promise Beneath the Sunset —
The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, staining the sky in warm orange and violet hues. Ethan and Iria sat on the grassy slope of a small hill overlooking the park.
A gentle breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the earthy scent of soil and freshly cut grass.
Ethan sat cross-legged, idly fiddling with a leaf between his fingers. It was an ordinary afternoon, yet somehow… it wasn't.
Iria sat beside him, staring silently at the horizon. Her expression was unreadable—a shadow of her usual smile lingered, but her eyes held something… melancholy.
Ethan glanced at her. He hated seeing her like this.
"What's wrong?" he finally asked, tossing the leaf aside.
Iria took her time answering, as if weighing each word.
"I don't know…" she whispered. "Sometimes I feel like… time's moving too fast."
— The Promise Beneath the Sunset —
Ethan blinked, not fully grasping her meaning.
"But… that's normal, right?"
Iria hugged her knees to her chest, chin resting on them, still avoiding his gaze.
"Yeah… but it scares me."
Ethan frowned.
"Scares you? Of what?"
She finally looked at him. Her eyes held a mix of sadness and… something else—something Ethan couldn't unravel then.
"That one day… we'll forget each other."
Ethan's gut twisted.
They'd talked about forgetting before—that's why they'd buried the stone by the swings. A failsafe for their special place.
But this time… she wasn't talking about the park.
She was talking about them.
Ethan stared at his hands, a shiver crawling up his spine for no damn reason. The thought of forgetting Iria… it scared him stupid.
But why?
They were kids. How could they forget each other if they were always together?
None of it made sense.
"It won't happen," he said finally, forcing a confidence he didn't feel.
Iria wasn't buying it. She dropped her gaze, finger tracing shaky circles in the dirt.
"How can you be so sure?"
Ethan had no answer, so he defaulted to instinct—
He stuck out his pinkie, voice rough but stubborn:
"'Cause I promise."
Iria stared at him, surprised. For a heartbeat, doubt flickered… then a tiny smile cracked through.
Without another moment's hesitation, she hooked her pinkie with his.
A simple promise. Childish, even. But to them, it was unshakable.
Iria sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder with a weary smile.
"If you ever forget me… I'll make sure you remember," she murmured, a faint laugh escaping her.
Ethan rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
— Exiting Memories —
Ethan snapped back to the present, his heart slamming against his chest like a war drum.
Those memories… they were his.
Buried, ignored—gone—until this fractured moment.
He turned to Iria, gaze sharpening, a storm brewing behind his eyes.
If she'd been part of his childhood all along…
Why the hell hadn't he remembered her until now?
What chunks of his life had he blacked out?
And the real kicker—
If none of this was real…
So how much of his life was real?