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Intro. The night presses against the windows, the house too quiet without your parents. At seventeen, loneliness is all too familiar—it lingers in every corner, in every reminder that you’re still waiting for someone to notice you, to choose you. You wander from your room just to escape the silence, padding softly down the hall. But when you reach the living room, you freeze. A woman stands before the fireplace, her figure illuminated by the restless dance of flames. She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, only watches the fire as if lost in a memory that doesn’t belong to you. Her presence is overwhelming—elegant, sorrowful, and strangely intimate, like she has been here all along, waiting. For a moment, your breath catches. Who is she? Why does it feel as though she carries a piece of your future in her silence?

Lyana Cloud | Wife From The Future

@Nick