Tabitha awoke with a start, her pulse quickening as the last fragments of her dream dissolved into the dim light of her dorm room. Her breath was shallow, her chest tight, and for a moment, the weight of the dream was so real that she couldn't distinguish where the dream ended and reality began.
Sejar's face flashed in her mind—his tear-filled eyes, that desperate plea—"Don't leave." She reached for the nightstand, her fingers grazing the cold wood, trying to anchor herself. Her mind raced. Why had she felt so connected to him? Why had his sorrow tugged at her like it was her own?
The clock on her desk blinked 6:30 a.m., the morning light creeping in through the blinds. But the feeling lingered, an echo of something deep within her that she couldn't shake.
She pulled herself from the bed, dragging a hand through her messy hair. The coolness of the room did nothing to calm her racing thoughts. She glanced at the small mirror on the wall, her reflection dull, eyes heavy with sleep, as if her soul hadn't quite returned from the dream world yet.
Her phone buzzed on the desk, the sound sharp in the quiet room. She grabbed it, half-expecting something important, but instead, a message from her mother appeared on the screen.
"Tabitha, don't forget to buy milk today. Also, get some eggs. You always forget the eggs."
Tabitha's lips tightened as she read the message. The cold efficiency of her mother's words stung, but she had long stopped expecting anything more. It was always like this—distant, transactional. Her mother didn't ask how she was, didn't care about her day, only the things that needed to be done.
She doesn't understand me, Tabitha thought bitterly as she tossed the phone aside. She wasn't sure who she was trying to fool—her mother, or herself. Maybe both.
With a resigned sigh, she threw on a worn hoodie, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. But the sense of something unresolved clung to her. The man, Sejar, his eyes—she couldn't push him from her thoughts. He had been real, somehow, hadn't he?
---
The university campus was buzzing with the usual morning rush. Students huddled in small groups, their voices blending with the sound of footsteps and laughter, but Tabitha felt detached, moving through it all like an outsider. She couldn't focus on anything but the dream.
Her shoes crunched over the fallen leaves, the early autumn chill creeping in, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to block out the cold both inside and out. The dream felt too vivid to be just that—a dream. It was as if Sejar's pain had been a part of her, something familiar, something she should have known.
As she walked into the lecture hall, the chatter died down, and she slipped into her usual seat by the window. Emily, her closest friend here, raised an eyebrow as she sat beside her.
"You look... off today. Bad night?" Emily asked, her voice tinged with concern.
Tabitha shrugged, forcing a smile. "Just didn't sleep well."
Emily's gaze lingered on her for a moment, but she didn't press further, sensing it wasn't the time. Instead, she shifted her attention to the professor who had begun the lecture.
But Tabitha wasn't listening. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying the dream over and over. The calmness she had felt when Sejar had spoken to her, his pain so raw and real. And the connection—that connection—was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. She couldn't explain it. She didn't know how to make sense of it.
---
By the time class ended, Tabitha was no closer to finding answers. Her thoughts were tangled, but one thing was clear: she couldn't shake the feeling that Sejar wasn't just a figment of her imagination. That there was something more to him. Something that tied him to her in a way that was inexplicable.
The walk to the café was mechanical, the routine of her day moving her like a puppet on strings. The small café near campus was her escape, her place to hide from everything. She sat at her usual spot by the window, the warm glow of the café lights a stark contrast to the chill in the air outside. She placed her books on the table, but instead of opening them, she just stared out the window, lost in thought.
Her coffee arrived, but she barely noticed it. Her fingers traced the rim of the cup, the steam rising in soft spirals. Her thoughts, tangled as they were, kept circling back to him—the man from her dream.
Could it be him?
A sudden chill ran down her spine, and she looked up, her breath catching in her throat. The man from the café door—he walked in.
Tall. Dark hair, falling just over his forehead. His black jacket absorbed the dim light, giving him a shadowy presence that felt strangely familiar. Her heart skipped a beat. No—it couldn't be.
He moved to the counter, ordered a coffee, and then sat at the window, his back to her. But the moment their eyes met across the room, Tabitha froze.
A flicker of recognition shot through her. His eyes—they were dark, intense, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as though he could see right through her, as if he knew her. That same pull from the dream, that same connection, surged within her chest.
She quickly looked away, her pulse quickening. She couldn't let this feeling take root. It was ridiculous. She didn't even know this man. But everything inside her screamed otherwise.
She tried to focus on her textbook, but her eyes kept darting back to him, watching him out of the corner of her eye. The way he moved, the way he sat—he wasn't like the others. There was a quiet gravity to him, a presence that made everything else fade into the background.
As she gathered her things to leave, their eyes met once more, longer this time. Something unspoken passed between them, a shared recognition that neither of them acknowledged.
He didn't speak, but as she walked out of the café, her heart raced, her thoughts spinning in every direction. That was him. The man from her dream. But how? Why?
She didn't know. But she felt it. She was being drawn toward him, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
End of chapter 2.