As the music thumped around us and laughter echoed, I felt Evelyn's hand still clasped around mine, grounding me even as my mind whirled with confusion.
"Evelyn," I said, lowering my voice as we stepped into a quieter alcove away from the crowd. "You need to tell me what's really going on. I don't understand any of this—these people, this place... I feel like I'm in a dream I can't wake up from."
Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, the facade of confidence slipped. "I know it's overwhelming, Ryan," she said, her voice softening. "But you have to trust me. We don't have the luxury of time right now."
I shook my head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Trust? You brought me here, but I don't even know why! You're acting like you know everything, but I feel completely lost."
Evelyn stepped closer, her expression earnest. "Do you remember when we first met? You were passionate about your studies, and I was drawn to that light inside you. But I made mistakes that cost us time."
Her words stirred something in me, but I couldn't grasp what it was. I had no recollection of her, our late-night study sessions, or shared dreams. Instead, all I felt was an ache—a profound emptiness where memories should have been. "What happened to us, Evelyn?" I asked softly, confusion coloring my voice.
Before she could answer, a woman with vibrant red hair approached, her gaze sparkling with interest. "Ryan! Remember that time we all went to the beach? You practically saved everyone from drowning!"
My heart raced as I struggled to recall the moment. The details eluded me completely, and I sensed Evelyn's grip on my hand tighten, her jaw clenching slightly as she watched the woman interact with me. A flicker of jealousy danced in her eyes, quickly masked by her practiced smile.
"Uh... yeah, I think so," I managed, forcing a smile, while I noticed Evelyn's demeanor subtly shift—her protective nature coming to the forefront.
As we continued chatting, Evelyn expertly navigated the conversation, her charm disarming the guests. But I sensed the tension beneath her surface, the way she stepped slightly closer, as if to stake her claim.
"We need to step outside," Evelyn finally murmured, her tone urgent.
The room felt like a fever dream—a whirl of voices, faces, and conversations that pulled at something in the back of my mind, something just out of reach. People I didn't recognize greeted me with familiarity, clapping my back, laughing with some unspoken intimacy, as if I were a central figure in their lives. I tried to keep up, tried to play along, but every laugh, every comment aimed my way only amplified the sense of being a stranger in my own skin.
Evelyn was at my side the whole time, her hand occasionally finding my arm as if to steady me. She would lean in, speaking with the same ease and conviction I had once associated with confidence. Every time someone asked me something—about work, about plans, about discoveries I apparently should know about—she answered for me, effortlessly weaving a story I didn't recognize. The way she slipped into her role, so smooth, so natural, unsettled me.
I leaned over to her at one point, keeping my voice low. "Who are these people, Evelyn? Why do they know me like this?"
She shot me a brief glance, one that almost looked pained, and responded in a soft voice. "They're… friends, colleagues, people you've known for a long time." She gestured subtly towards a man watching us with an intense expression. "Just try to go along with it, alright? We'll have time to talk soon."
I nodded, but the unease gnawed at me. This wasn't me. Or was it? I caught fragmented pieces of conversations about projects, experiments, something called "the multiverse initiative," but none of it fit together in a way that made sense. It was like eavesdropping on someone else's life.
After what felt like hours, the crowd began to thin, and Evelyn guided me out onto a balcony, where the noise softened, and I could finally catch my breath. The city stretched out before us, glowing in a thousand colors, but even its beauty did little to ease the tension in my chest.
I turned to Evelyn, who had gone quiet, staring out at the city with a pensive look. "Alright," I said, breaking the silence. "We're alone now. Tell me what's going on."
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she seemed to weigh my question, like she was deciding how much truth to reveal. Finally, she looked at me, her eyes intense, searching.
"It's complicated, Ryan," she said, almost apologetically. "You're here because I need your help."
"To do what?" I pressed, frustration edging into my voice. "Why am I here, Evelyn? You pulled me out of my life, brought me here, threw me into this… whatever this is. What could possibly justify all this?"
She hesitated, and in that moment, I saw something raw and desperate in her eyes. Her voice softened as she said, "Because I'm looking for someone very important. Someone who… vanished."
I stared at her, my mind scrambling to make sense of her words. "Who?" I asked, dreading the answer but needing to know.
She took a step closer, her gaze holding mine, and for a moment, I thought she might reach out to touch me. Her voice was almost a whisper.
"The person I'm looking for… is you."