Chapter 1: The Wilted Beginning
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a dim, blood-red hue over the abandoned garden. Once full of vibrant life, the flowers now stood withered, their petals curling in on themselves like secrets long kept. Among them, a single white blossom stood eerily untouched by the decay surrounding it. Its beauty was undeniable, yet there was something unsettling about it—something out of place.
Jenna knelt beside the flower, her fingers brushing the fragile petals. She could feel the pulse of something ancient beneath the soft surface, a force that whispered of things unsaid, of time that had been lost and forgotten. The air around her was thick, laden with the scent of something dying. Yet, the flower—though it withered at its edges—remained in full bloom, its scent a sweet contradiction to the rot of the garden.
Her grandmother had warned her of this place, told her that the garden was cursed, that it held the last traces of life in a world already slipping away. Jenna never understood until now, until she found herself standing at the edge of the unknown, a place where the past refused to die and the future remained a whisper.
As the breeze shifted, a strange sensation crept up her spine. There was someone—or something—watching her. She turned, but the garden was as still as death. Her heart raced, and for the first time in years, Jenna felt a deep, unshakable fear.
The flower's scent deepened, thickening in the air, pulling her in.
Something was calling her.
And she couldn't resist.
---
She woke up from the dream again, her breath shallow, her heart pounding. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the window. Jenna's eyes darted around, trying to shake the sense of disorientation that clung to her like fog. She could still smell the sweet decay of the garden, hear the whispering of the wind, feel the pull of the flower.
But it was just a dream. Or was it?
For weeks now, Jenna had been haunted by the same vision—of the withering garden, the lone flower, and the woman. She couldn't see the woman's face, but the figure was always there, standing just beyond her reach, as if she were waiting for Jenna to step closer. Every time she woke, the air felt heavier, the dream more real.
Jenna rubbed her temples, trying to push the thoughts away, but they lingered. This woman, this presence, felt too familiar, like someone she had known long ago but had forgotten. The strangest part was that, in the dream, Jenna had felt a connection to her, a bond that went beyond the garden and the flower. It was like they were bound by something deeper, something tied to the past, to a truth she wasn't ready to face.
Her hands trembled as she reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, but it wasn't enough to calm the unease creeping up her spine.
Something was happening—something she couldn't explain. And with each passing night, the woman seemed to be calling her closer.
Jenna sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her hands, still feeling the lingering touch of the dream. The woman, the garden, the flower... they were all too real. She could almost hear the whispers of the wind in her ears, could almost smell the sweet decay of the petals in the air. It was as if the line between her dreams and reality was beginning to blur.
She glanced over at her phone, the cold screen reflecting back her anxious face. It was past midnight now. No one would be awake to talk to her, not that she could explain any of this to them anyway. Who would believe her? The visions, the dreams, the woman—everything felt like it belonged to another world, a world she didn't belong to but was inexplicably drawn to.
Then, the thought hit her again—the garden. The flower. The strange, unyielding pull she felt toward it. What if it wasn't just a dream? What if there was something more to it? Something waiting for her in that place, something she needed to uncover. Her grandmother's warnings echoed in her mind, but she dismissed them as superstition. Or had she?
"Get a grip, Jenna," she muttered under her breath, standing up and pacing around the room. But even as the words left her mouth, she felt a deep sense of foreboding settle in her chest.
The woman in the dream... the more she thought about it, the more Jenna realized that she wasn't just a stranger. There was something so familiar about her presence. Something that made Jenna feel like she had known her her whole life. But how could that be? She couldn't even see her face, only the outline of her figure standing in the shadows, her voice like an echo in the distance.
Jenna sat back down, her mind racing. She couldn't let this go. She couldn't ignore the feeling that there was a connection between her and the garden—between her and the woman in her dreams. There was a reason she kept seeing her, a reason the visions wouldn't stop.
It was only when the wind howled through the cracks in the window that she realized she wasn't alone.
A soft sound—almost like a whisper—slipped through the air. It was faint at first, barely audible, but it was there. Like a voice, beckoning her. A voice she knew all too well.
"Come find me," it whispered.
Jenna shook her head, trying to clear the lingering fog of the dream. "It's just a dream," she whispered to herself, standing up and heading to the bathroom. The cold splash of water on her face helped anchor her back to reality. The strange, unsettling vision still tugged at the edges of her mind, but she refused to give in to it.
It had been years since the nightmares and memories of her childhood had controlled her. She had spent so long running from the darkness that sometimes it felt like she was running out of breath. The scars, both physical and emotional, had never truly healed. But she had built a life for herself—one she could control.
She checked the clock. It was almost time for class, and she had a busy day ahead. Between university lectures, her growing lip gloss brand, and keeping up with her boyfriend, there was no room for distractions. She couldn't afford to be pulled back into a dream world that had no place in her life now.
Jenna dressed quickly, grabbing her things and glancing at the small vanity where she kept her lip gloss products. It had started as a hobby, something to keep her mind occupied during rough times, but now her brand was slowly gaining momentum. A small victory in a world that had given her very few.
She pulled her hair into a messy bun and applied a touch of her own gloss to her lips before stepping out. The soft sheen on her lips felt like a reminder of the success she'd carved out, despite everything. As she slipped into her shoes, her phone buzzed. It was a message from her boyfriend, Ethan.
"Good luck at work today, babe. Can't wait to see you later. Love you!"
She smiled, replying quickly. Ethan was a constant in her life—a steady force she could rely on. He knew about her past, the hurt, the struggles, but he didn't judge her for it. He just loved her, and that meant everything.
With a deep breath, Jenna headed out the door, trying to shake off the fog that still clouded her thoughts. It was time to face the day. No more dreams. No more distractions.
Jenna stepped out of the taxi and into the university campus, the weight of the dream still lingering in the back of her mind like a shadow she couldn't shake off. The day was just beginning, and she had no time to dwell on things she couldn't control.
She walked briskly through the familiar paths, past the tall buildings where students hurried between classes, each of them lost in their own worlds. Jenna's world, however, always felt a bit out of focus, like she was just passing through, waiting for something to click. Her thoughts drifted to her friends—Ella and Sophia, the constants in her otherwise chaotic life.
As Jenna made her way toward the student union, she spotted them sitting together on the worn benches, laughing about something Jenna couldn't quite hear. Ella, with her confident, slightly rebellious demeanor, was always the louder of the two, while Sophia, the dreamer, looked serene, as though she lived in a world of her own.
"Hey, you!" Ella called out as she saw Jenna approaching. "Did you get lost in that dream world of yours again?"
Jenna smiled, though her heart wasn't entirely in it. She had shared the dream with them before, but they never took it seriously. Not like she did. They weren't bothered by it. Not in the way Jenna was.
"Not this time," she replied, sitting down beside Sophia. "Just had another one of those weird dreams."
Sophia looked up from her book, her eyes sparkling with the same curiosity that always made her seem like she was searching for something beyond the surface of the world. "What kind of weird dream?" she asked, her voice soft but eager.
"You know, the same one," Jenna replied, trying to downplay it. "The garden, the flower, the woman."
Ella rolled her eyes. "Here we go again with the ghost stories." She leaned back against the bench, crossing her arms with a playful grin. "You really should stop watching those horror movies, Jen. They're messing with your head."
But Jenna could see the small glint of amusement in Ella's eyes. Ella was practical, grounded—too much so sometimes. She didn't believe in ghosts or any of the strange, otherworldly things that Sophia was always fascinated by.
Sophia, on the other hand, was entirely different. "It's fascinating," she said, her voice dreamy. "Maybe the dream is a sign. A message from someone or something. Sometimes, dreams have meanings, you know."
Jenna's heart skipped a beat at her words, but she quickly brushed it off. "I'm just tired. No deep meanings. It's just... a dream."
Sophia nodded slowly, her gaze distant, as if lost in her own thoughts. "Sometimes, I wonder if there's a world between dreams and reality. A place where things are connected, but we can't quite see it."
Jenna gave her a look, the edges of her lips turning up in a faint smile. "You and your fantasy worlds, Soph."
Ella, sensing the tension, leaned forward and nudged Jenna. "We need to focus, okay? Finals are coming up, and you've been zoning out in class enough to know you need to catch up."
Jenna groaned. "I know, I know. I just keep thinking about... everything."
Sophia's voice softened. "What everything?"
Jenna paused, her heart fluttering slightly. She wasn't sure how to explain it—how to talk about the strange dreams or the sense of foreboding that had been hanging over her since that first vision. Instead, she shrugged, forcing a smile. "Just... life."
Ella smirked, as if sensing Jenna's unwillingness to share. "Ah, so the mystery continues," she teased.
"Always," Jenna muttered, grateful for the distraction.
They spent the next few minutes chatting, the casual banter helping Jenna to forget, even if just for a moment, the nagging feeling that something was off. She loved her friends dearly, but there were some things they wouldn't understand, some things that were too complicated to explain.
Sophia believed in the strange, the fantastical, and would likely embrace the idea that Jenna's dreams held some deeper truth. Ella, however, would just chalk it up to stress or overactive imagination.
Jenna envied the simplicity of their perspectives.
Sophia's POV
Sophia sat at the corner of the campus café, her fingers drumming restlessly on the table. She had sent him a message hours ago. No reply. Not even an emoji, which used to be their thing. She had tried calling him, too, but the phone rang and rang, only to go straight to voicemail.
It wasn't the first time. And it was starting to hurt more than it should.
Dante was different now, colder in ways she couldn't quite understand. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was tired of her. Either way, she was left here, wondering what had gone wrong. Wondering what it was about her—about her, and not the world around her—that made him pull away.
She tried to swallow the knot in her throat, but it didn't budge. Her heart felt heavy, weighed down by the unanswered messages and the growing silence between them. It was always like this, a push and pull. She would reach out, and he would withdraw. She needed him, and he needed space.
A part of her knew that she wasn't the easiest person to be with. She carried so much baggage—more than any relationship could bear, maybe. But no one ever really saw it. They saw her smile, her dream-filled eyes, the girl who lived in her head. They didn't see the insecurities that churned inside her. The desperation for a love that was real, that didn't slip through her fingers like sand every time she tried to hold on.
She missed him. So much. But she was starting to wonder if it was worth it anymore.
Her phone buzzed, snapping her from her thoughts. It was a text from her mom.
"Soph, make sure to check on your siblings today. Your dad would've wanted that."
Sophia stared at the message, her eyes blurring for a moment. It was always like this. Her mom, telling her to take care of everyone else, reminding her of her responsibility as the oldest.
She had three younger siblings to look after—two brothers and a sister—and she loved them dearly. But sometimes, it felt like her whole life had been about taking care of them, about filling the gaps her mom left when she couldn't be there. Her mom had always been distant, wrapped up in her own world, in her own struggles. Sometimes Sophia wondered if her mother even saw her as a person, or just as another task on the endless list of things she had to do.
Sophia was tired. Tired of always being the strong one, the responsible one, the one who had to hold it all together. She wished for a moment of peace, a moment where she could just be Sophia, and not the daughter who had to clean up the mess, or the sister who had to play the role of the second mom.
It wasn't that her mother didn't care—Sophia knew her mom loved her. But there were so many times when it felt like her mom was more concerned with managing the house and the kids than actually seeing her. Really seeing her. And with each passing year, it seemed like the distance between them only grew.
She was the oldest. She had to be the one who set the example. Who kept things from falling apart. But deep down, Sophia knew she was carrying a weight she wasn't ready for. She wasn't sure how to balance the expectations of her family with the desire to build her own life, to live for herself. It was hard to want a future when it felt like she was always stuck in the past, forever caught in the web of her mother's needs, her father's absence, and the quiet isolation she felt in the midst of it all.
Her phone buzzed again, and she glanced at it with a mixture of hope and dread. Another message.
It was Dante.
"Sorry, I've been busy. Can we talk later?"
Sophia bit her lip. It was always later. Always later. When would it be now? When would he see her? When would he stop pulling away?
Her fingers hovered over the screen, but she didn't reply. She didn't want to beg. She didn't want to feel like she was fighting for a place in his life.
Instead, she closed her phone and shoved it into her bag. She had to stop doing this to herself. She had to stop waiting for someone else to fill the emptiness that she carried.
But it was hard. Harder than she wanted to admit. Harder than anyone could understand.
And for a brief moment, Sophia allowed herself to feel the weight of everything—the silence from Dante, the distance from her mom, the endless responsibilities—and she realized just how much she was aching for something real. Something that could fill the hollow space inside her heart.
But right now, she had no answers. Only the overwhelming feeling that, no matter how hard she tried, she was always going to be just one step away from finding what she needed.