Ava’s body jerked, the sharpness of reality pulling her out of the moment. One second, she was drowning in a storm of tears, her chest heaving with the weight of everything she had buried.
The next, she was yanked away—pulled back into a place that felt too familiar. Too clean. Too perfect.
She woke up, gasping for air, the soft, white leather of her penthouse couch pressing against her skin. Her fingers brushed the diamond ring on her finger as if it was part of a dream she couldn’t remember.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table beside her. She didn’t move right away. The world outside her penthouse windows glittered in the morning light, an ocean of skyscrapers stretching across the skyline.
It was a picture of everything she’d worked for. Everything she’d built.
Ava ran a hand through her hair—silk, perfect. Her body was slim, skin smooth and flawless. She was beautiful. The kind of woman everyone admired from a distance.
The kind of woman people thought had it all.
But when she looked at herself in the reflection of the window, the mirror of her life, there was a weight in her chest. A hollow ache that gnawed at her from the inside. She could hear the buzz of her phone, the light blinking with messages she couldn’t bring herself to read.
Her life was waiting for her. Her carefully crafted, perfectly staged life. But her heart felt like a deep pit of emptiness, too wide and too dark to fill.
Ava stood slowly, almost as if the air had grown too heavy to breathe. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, seeing the girl she had become, but feeling like a stranger in her own skin.
The girl everyone wanted her to be. The woman everyone believed her to be.
But who was she really?
She pulled on the silk robe that had always felt like armor, stepped into shoes that clicked on the floor like clockwork. Everything was in place. Everything looked right. But none of it felt like hers. She felt disconnected from everything around her.
A ghost in her own life.
She reached for her phone, her hand still trembling as she scrolled through the messages—friends, clients, family. Everyone she had ever needed was waiting for her. But still, the hollow feeling remained.
The sound of her phone buzzing again jolted her out of her thoughts. She grabbed her bag, her pulse quickening as she stepped out of the penthouse.
The cab ride to the watch shop felt like a blur. Her mind was stuck between two worlds—the one she had built, and the one that had been ripped away. She needed something to ground her. Something real.
When the cab stopped in front of Darla’s Watch Repair, her breath caught in her throat. The shop was there, just like before.
She almost didn’t believe it at first. The crooked sign, the dusty windows, the smell of old wood and leather inside. It was all just as she remembered.
But something was different.
The door swung open as she stepped inside, the little bell above it ringing. The familiar scent of dust and mystery filled her nose. The warmth she had once felt walking through this door, the quiet comfort of the place, was gone.
This time, it felt distant—empty, like the heart of the shop had been drained.
Darla was behind the counter, as always. But when she saw Ava, her expression didn’t change with recognition. Instead, it hardened, like she was already expecting something Ava hadn’t said yet.
“You came back,” Darla said, her voice low, as if she knew the storm Ava had been through. “But not in time.”
Ava froze. “What do you mean?”
Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to step forward, but the words wouldn’t come out. Her breath hitched in her throat.
Darla’s eyes were dark, almost sorrowful. She didn’t move from behind the counter, her hands folded in front of her. “The door to the past is closed.”
Ava took a step back, the words crashing into her like a wave.
“What? No. I’ve been here before,” she insisted, her voice cracking with desperation. “I’ve lived through this. You said time could break before it could be fixed. You said—”
“You can’t fix the past, Ava,” Darla interrupted, her voice calm, unyielding. “You’ve already made your choices. And the door is closed now.”
Ava shook her head, a storm brewing inside her. “Then open it again. I don’t care how. Just open it. I don’t care about anything else. I need this to make sense.”
Darla’s gaze softened, but it didn’t bring comfort. It only deepened the ache inside Ava’s chest.
“You can’t go back,” Darla said softly, almost regretfully. “Not unless the door opens from the other side.”
Ava’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean by that? Who’s on the other side?”
Darla didn’t answer right away. She just watched Ava carefully, as if seeing something she hadn’t noticed before. And then, finally, she pointed to the watch on Ava’s wrist.
“You left something behind,” Darla said, her tone heavy with meaning. “You need to figure out what it is.”
Ava looked down at the watch. It was still ticking—steady, quiet. The time hadn’t changed. It was still 7:06 a.m., just like it had been when she first woke up.
“What did I leave behind?” she whispered, her voice trembling. She felt the words in her bones, but she didn’t want to hear the answer.
Darla’s gaze softened. “Someone who doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
The words landed like a punch to Ava’s chest.
“You mean Jace,” she whispered, the name tasting bitter on her tongue. “I thought… I thought he’d wake up differently. Remembering. I thought we could change it all.”
“You changed yourself,” Darla said gently, walking closer. “And that’s enough. It has to be.”
Ava staggered backward, the weight of her disappointment and disbelief sinking in. “But I thought I changed everything. I thought… I thought he would remember.”
“You changed ‘you’, Ava.” Darla’s eyes filled with a quiet sorrow. “And sometimes that’s all it takes. To start something new.”
Ava’s throat burned, the weight of the truth too much to bear. “But what if it wasn’t enough? What if I was just a ghost to him?”
“Or maybe you’re the spark.” Darla stepped around the counter, her steps slow, almost measured. “The thing he needs to remember. The door isn’t closed for good.”
Ava sank into a nearby chair, her hands gripping her knees.
“He has to remember me too,” she whispered, her voice raw.
Darla moved back into the shadows, disappearing behind shelves that seemed to hold nothing but memories. Ava sat there in silence, the ticking of the watch growing louder in her ears.
It was like the world had paused, waiting for something to happen. She looked down at the watch again, willing it to change, to give her something. And then, it flickered. A single burst of golden light.
Ava’s breath caught. She reached out toward it, but the light vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
“No,” she whispered, her fingers trembling. “Please.”
But the golden shimmer came again, more intense this time. Ava stood, her heart racing. She had to act. She had to do something.
The door. The past. The choices. Everything felt like it was slipping through her fingers. She turned toward the door, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest.
“If he forgets,” she whispered to herself, “then I was just a ghost.”
And then, from the shadows, Darla’s voice came again—softer this time. “Or the spark.”
Ava turned, but Darla was gone.