Eddie slid into the seat like he was walking into an ambush. The café noise hummed in the background—clinking cups, casual chatter—but at this table, the air was ice.
The old woman's eyes lifted slowly. The second she saw him, her entire face changed.
"Edward," she said, voice thick with something unspoken. "Long time no see."
Maya's breath hitched. "Wait… you know him?"
Eddie's jaw twitched. His hand tightened around the glass of water in front of him. No answer.
The woman tilted her head slightly, eyes still fixed on him. "Of course I do. He was my daughter's boyfriend."
Maya blinked like her brain needed to reboot. "I'm sorry… what?"
"My daughter. Samantha." The woman's smile didn't reach her eyes. "We called her Sammy."
Sally's drink stopped halfway to her lips. Luna raised her brows slowly, exchanging a glance with her. Meanwhile, Maya was still processing the sentence like it came in a language she forgot she knew.
Eddie shifted. "We should go."
"No," Maya said, shaking her head, her voice cutting through the fog. "You're not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what the hell is going on."
The woman looked directly at Maya now. "He and my daughter were in love. She was seventeen. Beautiful. A little wild. Just like you." Her eyes narrowed with uncanny focus. "You look exactly like her."
Maya flinched.
Eddie stood up. "She's grieving. She doesn't know what she's saying."
"I remember everything," the woman snapped. "You were practically living in our house, Edward. Don't pretend you don't remember her."
Maya turned to him sharply. "Eddie. Is that true?"
His silence was volcanic.
"She died in a car crash," the woman continued, as if she'd been holding it in for years. "March 11th. Hit and run. They never found who did it."
The whole table went silent.
And then, almost delicately, she turned to Maya. "And you, my dear… you don't just look like her. You are her in every way that matters."
Boom. Tension broke into chaos.
Luna exhaled like she'd been holding her breath for ten years. "Okay. Did someone just crack open a supernatural drama?"
Sally was full-on blinking in Morse code. "What kind of reincarnation plot twist—"
"I need air," Maya muttered and stood up so fast her chair nearly tipped.
Eddie followed her out, but she spun on him the second they hit the street.
"Start. Talking."
He glanced around like someone might be watching. "You can't trust her."
"You're deflecting."
"She's wrong."
"She's not. I saw your face. You looked like you saw a damn ghost."
"I didn't want you involved in this," he said.
"You involved me the second you sat down at that table and let her call you Edward."
He rubbed his face with both hands. "Just… please, stay away from her."
"Why? Because she's got a story you don't want me to hear?"
"Maya, please."
The desperation in his voice made her pause. But only for a second.
"No. I deserve answers."
Later that night, the girls regrouped like an emergency task force. Maya stood in the middle of her bedroom, the windows open, the night breeze doing nothing to cool her off.
"She said his ex-girlfriend died," Maya muttered. "And I look like her. She even had a name—Sammy."
"Okay," Luna said, lying belly-down on the bed, "but if this is some evil twin soap opera twist, I swear to God—"
"It's not just that," Maya said. "She said Sammy died on March 11th."
Sally sat up. "Wait. Isn't that—"
"The same day I crashed last year," Maya finished. "Same. Exact. Time."
The room went quiet.
"Okay," Luna said finally. "That's creepy."
Maya nodded. "We need more info. From Zeke."
"Why him?" Sally asked.
"Because he's Eddie's best friend. If anyone knows what happened before Eddie transferred to Crossword High, it's him."
"I'll do it," Sally offered. "Zeke's got a soft spot for me."
"Oh, he totally does," Luna smirked.
"Gross, but fine," Sally muttered.
Next day, Sally found Zeke leaning against the lockers.
"So. Eddie's ex."
Zeke frowned. "Huh?"
"Sammy. Spill."
Zeke hesitated, then sighed. "Yeah. She was real. They were serious. She died."
"How?"
"Car accident. A year ago. March 11th."
Sally's eyes widened. "Same night as Maya's crash?"
Zeke's brows pulled together. "What?"
"Nothing. Thanks."
That night, Maya dialed the number the old woman had slipped into her hand days ago. Ten minutes later, she was standing in front of a weathered green door.
"I hoped you'd come," the woman said.
Inside, the house smelled of lavender and silence. She handed Maya a photo album like it weighed a thousand pounds.
Maya opened it.
Sammy smiled up at her from the pages—arms wrapped around Eddie, eyes full of light, alive in a way that made Maya's stomach churn. Because it was her. Same jawline. Same nose. Same crooked smile.
"I thought I was losing my mind when I saw you," the woman whispered. "But then I realized… maybe you're not her. But maybe you're something else."
Maya couldn't breathe.
"She died at 10:03 PM," the woman added. "They said she was probably gone instantly."
Maya whispered, "That's exactly when I crashed."
She left the house with a storm buzzing under her skin.
Eddie showed up an hour later. Hoodie. Hood up. Looking like a ghost caught in headlights.
"You talked to her."
"I did."
He stepped inside. His presence filled the room like a dark cloud.
"She showed me pictures," Maya said. "You were in them."
"I know."
"She said I look like her. Like exactly like her."
"I know."
"She said she died the same night I crashed."
Eddie nodded. Slowly. Like it hurt.
"You didn't think I'd find out?"
"I hoped you wouldn't."
"That's not how relationships work, Eddie. You don't get to pick and choose which traumas you share."
He looked at her like he was unraveling. "You don't get it. You don't know what it's like to see her face in yours. Every damn day."
"Then tell me what happened."
"I loved her. But that night… something happened."
Maya stepped forward. "What happened?"
"I can't—" he cut himself off.
"Did you kill her?"
His head snapped up. "No!"
"Then who did?"
"I don't know. But I have nightmares every night that it was me."
Maya's chest tightened.
"I couldn't protect her. And now I'm terrified I'm going to lose you the same way."
Her phone buzzed.
She picked it up. A message.
From the old woman.
"There's something else you need to know."
Timestamp: March 11th, 10:01 AM.
Exactly one year later.
And somehow, Maya knew—
This wasn't over.