“Who are you?!”

It was in December when I first saw her in the garden on a chilly winter morning. The air was foggy, and everything felt quiet. She was sitting by herself on a bench, surrounded by flowers. There was something about the way she moved that drew me in. She didn’t seem like she belonged in the ordinary world but in some hazy, distant place that I couldn’t quite reach. I stood there, watching her from a distance. She was close, but somehow, she felt very far away. I remember the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Even though the fog blurred the details, the sunlight lit her up in a way that made me stop breathing for a second. I couldn’t see her face that well, but something about her presence was enough to leave me standing there, completely still. I wanted to go up to her, maybe say something, but I couldn’t. And as quickly as I’d seen her, she was gone—slipping into the mist as if she had never been there. I stood there, trying to hold onto the moment, wondering why someone I didn’t know could affect me like that.

For days, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way she sat there, the way she played with those flowers-it all stayed with me. I didn’t even know her name, but I couldn’t get her out of my head. I kept telling myself that I was being ridiculous, obsessing over a stranger like this. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get her off my mind. Weeks passed by, and I started to let go of the idea that I’d ever see her again. Maybe it was all just in my head, I thought. Maybe she wasn’t as special as I’d convinced myself of. But then, one evening, while I was walking through a parking lot near a bookstore, there she was again. I couldn’t believe it. It was her. I felt that same rush of excitement and nervousness. This time, I was determined. I was going to walk up to her, say something, anything. But before I could even take a step, she was gone. Just like before, she slipped away, disappearing into the night like some kind of illusion. I stood there feeling stupid, wondering if I’d missed my chance again. I started searching for her, walking through the same places, hoping to see her. But weeks passed, and nothing happened. I told myself to stop, that it was pointless, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t let go of her—the woman I barely knew but somehow felt connected to. It was ridiculous, but those dark, sparkling eyes of hers had stayed with me.

Then, finally, just when I had started to lose hope, I saw her again. It was the end of the year, and winter had truly set in. There she was, standing by herself, just like the first time. I didn’t hesitate this time. I walked up to her, heart pounding, and said, “Hey.” She looked up, surprised at first, but then she smiled. And that smile—it was like everything clicked into place. We started talking, and before I knew it, we were walking together, chatting like old friends. I couldn’t stop complimenting her—her eyes, her smile, the way she made everything around her feel warmer, even in the cold. I was blabbering like an idiot, but she laughed, and that laugh was everything I’d imagined. We started seeing each other more after that. Tea dates, long walks, deep conversations about books and life. She had this way of making everything feel lighter. Even serious topics somehow felt easy to talk about with her. There was this warmth between us, something that made December, usually so cold and lonely for me, feel special for once. It was perfect, or at least it felt that way. But, as life tends to do, things took a turn. One evening, while we were walking and laughing about something silly, she pulled away. At first, I didn’t understand. I reached out for her hand, but she slipped away, faster than I could react. I tried to hold onto her, but she was gone. Everything around me went dark, and I called out her name, but nothing happened. Just silence.

Then, I woke up. I was in my bed, my heart pounding, it took me a second to realize what had happened—that it was all just a dream. She wasn’t real. She had never been real. All those moments we shared, the laughter, the warmth of December, it was all in my head. I sat there for a while, trying to shake off the feeling of loss. It’s strange, losing someone who never existed. I had built up this whole idea of her in my mind, convinced myself that she was out there, that we were meant to meet. But it was just me, alone in my bed, with only the faint traces of a dream to keep me company. Now, I’m left with that emptiness, haunted by the memory of someone who never was. It’s funny, really—how your mind can play tricks on you like that. How you can feel so deeply for something that wasn’t even real. But that’s life, I guess. Sometimes, the things we want the most are just illusions we’ve created for ourselves.