When 18-year-old Elara's long-term boyfriend breaks up with her, she spirals into an identity crisis. He loved her for who she was, but who was she without him? Determined to understand what went wrong, she starts revisiting old journals, texts, and even places they used to go-only to realize she's been molding herself into someone else's idea of love. Now, she must unlearn the version of herself she became for him and figure out who she is on her own.
Chapter 1 Who Was I With You
The train doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, and for a moment, Elara Vance couldn't move. The city stretched out before her-loud, unfamiliar, alive in a way that felt almost hostile. Skyscrapers loomed, headlights flashed against damp pavement, and the cold air carried the scent of rain and gasoline. She gripped the strap of her duffel bag, her pulse hammering.
This is it. A fresh start. A new version of herself.
She stepped onto the platform, letting the crowd swallow her. Her boots scuffed against the tile, her breath sharp in her lungs. She had been waiting for this moment for *months*, but now that it was here, she felt strangely weightless-like a ghost slipping between bodies.
Elara's fingers twitched toward her pocket, where her phone vibrated with a message. Not from anyone important, just an automated update from the leasing office of her new dorm. She had made sure of that-cleared out her inbox, deleted every old thread, blocked every number that could reach through time and drag her back. Especially his. But ghosts had a way of finding cracks to slip through. She exhaled sharply, pushing forward into the neon-lit streets.
---
The City Doesn't Know Me Yet
By the time she reached her dorm, her shoulders ached from carrying her bag, and her hoodie was damp from the misty drizzle coating the streets. The building was old, brick and ivy-covered, with high arched windows that reflected the glow of streetlights. Nothing like home.That was the point.
Elara checked in, grabbed her key, and climbed the narrow staircase to the third floor. The hallway smelled like vanilla candles and paint thinner. Room 317. Inside, her new roommate was already sprawled across the bed, scrolling through her phone. "You're late," the girl said without looking up. Elara blinked. "What?"
"I was waiting to see if I needed to call the authorities," she deadpanned, finally glancing over.
Elara almost smiled. Almost.
The girl sat up, tucking her legs beneath her. Dark curls framed a sharp-featured face, eyes assessing. Mia Harper, she said. Your new partner in crime.
"Elara," she replied, closing the door behind her.
Mia's gaze flicked over her. "You look like someone who just fled a murder scene."
Elara snorted. "Not quite."
"Mm." Mia didn't look convinced.
Elara turned away, setting her bag down. She wasn't sure what people saw when they looked at her anymore. The girl she used to be-Atlas's Elara-was gone. She had made sure of that. She pulled off her hoodie, revealing the black tank top beneath. The mirror across the room caught her reflection, and she barely recognized herself. She had cut her hair short, dyed it a cooler shade, traded pastel dresses for neutral tones and leather jackets. She didn't wear the necklace Atlas had given her. He wouldn't even know me now.
Mia studied her. "You running from something?" Elara hesitated. Then she shrugged. "Aren't we all?" Mia grinned. "Fair enough."
---
The Things We Burn
Later that night, when Mia had gone out to meet someone and the dorm was quiet, Elara pulled an envelope from the bottom of her bag. Atlas's handwriting curled across the front. She shouldn't have brought it. She should have burned it the first time she found it in the shoebox beneath her bed back home. But something about it had stopped her-some stupid, fragile part of her that still clung to old ghosts. Her fingers trembled as she slid the letter free.
Elara,
I don't know if you'll ever read this. I don't even know if you'll let me say goodbye. But if you do-if you ever miss me the way I still miss you-please, just remember this: We were real.
We were everything
I love you. Always.
Atlas
Her stomach twisted. We were real. Maybe that was the worst part. She let out a slow breath, then reached for the lighter she had stolen from Mia's desk. The flame flickered to life, warm against the cold air. She didn't hesitate this time. The paper curled, darkening at the edges, the flames licking higher.
Goodbye, Atlas.
She let the ashes fall into the sink, watching until every last piece was gone. Then she turned off the light and went to bed.
---
A Message From No One
At 3:17 AM, Elara's phone vibrated against the nightstand. She stirred, groggy, before reaching for it. One new message. The sender was unknown
You think you can just erase the past? Elara sat up, her blood running cold. Her heart pounded against her ribs, breath caught in her throat. She had blocked everyone. Hadn't she? Her fingers hovered over the screen. Then, as suddenly as it came, the message disappeared. Deleted.
Her pulse roared in her ears. For a long moment, she just stared at the dark screen. She should go back to sleep. It was probably nothing. Probably. But as she lay back down, pulling the covers over herself, one thought lingered:
Ghosts always find a way back and Atlas Calloway was never one to let go.