Chapter 60

Chapter 60 (Nell’s POV)

I wasn’t awake.

But I wasn’t asleep either.

I was somewhere in between—floating in a space that didn’t feel like mine.

It felt borrowed.

The air was too still. The light too soft. Everything was tinted in colors that didn’t quite belong.

I sat up slowly.

I was on a couch.

A couch I knew.

It was old and soft, covered in a knitted throw blanket that smelled faintly of vanilla and dust.

My apartment.

Or something like it.

Except it wasn’t right.

The photo frames on the wall held no faces. The books on the shelves had blank covers. The clock on the wall ticked, but the hands didn’t move.

I stood up.

My legs felt light. Too light.

Like I could fall through the floor at any second.

\---

I walked to the window.

It looked like the view from my college dorm room—only the buildings in the distance were hazy, like foggy memories I couldn’t quite reach.

Was I dreaming?

Dead?

Lost?

I touched the wall. It was warm.

Real.

But not real.

I turned toward the kitchen.

A kettle was on the stove.

It whistled softly, even though the burner wasn’t on.

Then I heard a voice.

Low.

Familiar.

“Careful. That kettle’s always had a mind of its own.”

I turned so fast, my heart jumped.

And there he was.

Alex.

Standing in the doorway of my dream.

\---

He looked the same.

Maybe younger.

Maybe gentler.

He was wearing a gray t-shirt. His hair was messy like he’d just woken up.

His eyes… they held something deep.

Something familiar.

“Alex?” I whispered.

He nodded.

I took a step toward him, then stopped.

“Are you real?”

He smiled faintly. “As real as I can be, in here.”

I looked around. “Where is here?”

“This is the bridge,” he said. “A space between your mind and mine. We’re connected.”

“Because of the experiment?”

He nodded again. “Because I asked them to try. Because I couldn’t lose you.”

His voice cracked at the end.

So did something in me.

\---

I took another step.

And another.

Until I was standing right in front of him.

“I remember this place,” I said quietly. “This couch. This window.”

I turned toward the bookshelf. “You sat here with me once. You brought pizza. You said the crust was too thick but you ate six slices anyway.”

Alex let out a breathy laugh. “You kept the pineapple. I hated that part.”

I smiled.

Just a little.

Then I reached for his hand.

Warm.

Real.

His fingers closed around mine.

“Are you really here, or is this just my mind pretending?” I asked.

“Both,” he said. “It’s me. My memories. Yours. Woven together. The stronger we hold on, the longer it lasts.”

“And if I forget again?”

He stepped closer.

“Then I’ll remind you. Every time.”

\---

The room began to shift.

Like the walls were breathing.

New colors bled into the floorboards—richer, deeper.

Pictures began to appear in the photo frames.

Blurry at first.

Then clearer.

One showed us at the beach.

Another on a couch, laughing.

Another—me asleep in his arms.

I gasped softly.

“I remember that,” I said.

Alex smiled. “Good. Hold on to it.”

\---

We walked through the door and found ourselves in a different place.

A train.

The same train from the kiss memory.

I sat by the window, watching the scenery flash by in slow motion.

Alex slid into the seat beside me.

“You were mad at me that day,” he said.

“I was?” I asked.

“You thought I forgot your birthday. I didn’t.”

He pulled something from his pocket.

A tiny paper flower.

I gasped.

“I made that in art class. You kept it?”

He nodded. “Still have it.”

I took it in my fingers.

It glowed a little.

A soft light.

The bridge was holding.

My heart felt like it might break from how full it was.

\---

But then… the light flickered.

Outside the window, the sky darkened.

Storm clouds rolled in.

The train slowed.

Alex looked up sharply.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“They’re losing the signal,” he said.

My pulse quickened. “No—no, not yet. I’m not ready.”

He took both my hands in his.

“Then stay with me. Focus.”

“I’m trying.”

“You remember the beach?” he asked quickly.

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you wore.”

“A white dress. Your hoodie over it.”

“Good. The café?”

“I was there. You held my hand under the table.”

“Yes,” he said, voice urgent. “Keep going.”

“The cabin. The one we stayed in.”

“You made pancakes. Burnt all of them.”

“You ate them anyway.”

“I would’ve eaten dirt if you gave it to me,” he whispered.

I laughed through tears.

But the sky outside cracked with lightning.

\---

The train started to fall apart.

Seats ripped away.

The windows burst open.

Wind howled through the space like a scream.

“No,” I cried. “Not yet!”

Alex pulled me up.

Held me tight.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

“Don’t let go,” I whispered.

“I won’t.”

But the floor trembled.

Pieces of the world began to fall into nothing.

I saw my apartment break like glass.

The photo frames shatter.

The beach vanish into fog.

My hands started to blur.

I looked at him.

“Alex—”

His grip tightened.

“You have to hold on to me, Nell—don’t let go!”