I woke up particularly early today. Nick, Michael, and Rafail had to go somewhere, which stirred me from my sleep. Now, I'm sitting on the bench at the rooftop of our apartment, waiting for the sun to rise. The morning air is crisp and refreshing against my skin, a peaceful contrast to the busy city slowly coming to life below.

As I gaze out, my eyes are drawn to the horizon. On my right, I can see the tip of the sea, its surface shimmering like scattered gems as the sun slowly rises. The golden rays reflect off the water, creating a mesmerizing dance of light, captivating my attention.

I take a deep breath, the salty scent of the ocean mixing with the earthy aroma of the waking city. Distant sounds of early traffic and the hum of life fill the air, but up here, it feels serene, like I've found a secret haven above the chaos.

The way the light changes as the sun climbs higher is captivating. Deep blues fade into soft pinks, which slowly transition to vibrant oranges. It reminds me of how beautiful new beginnings can be, even in the midst of the relentless pace of daily life. I can't help but smile, grateful for this quiet time to reflect.

But the moment is fleeting. I know I need to prepare for the day. With a reluctant sigh, I start to stand up, but something in the building beside ours catches my eye.

There, in an open window, stands a figure shrouded in a dirty white cloth. At first glance, I think it's nothing more than some laundry hung to dry, but then I see them—eyes. Not just any eyes, but glowing, red eyes, gleaming with an unsettling light. My heart races as I squint, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing.

A chill creeps down my spine. The figure remains eerily still, the eyes staring directly at me, watching. I blink, hoping it's a trick of the early morning light, but when I look again, the eyes are still there, piercing through the shadows. For a moment, I feel paralyzed, unable to tear my gaze away.

Suddenly, the figure shifts, and I gasp, my body instinctively recoiling as my heart pounds. The eyes stay locked on mine, filled with a strange, unnerving intensity. I force myself to look away, but my mind is racing, trying to rationalize what I just saw. Was it real, or just a figment of my imagination?

I gather my things, shaking off the uneasy feeling as best I can. Before heading inside, I glance back one last time—only to find the window empty. Whatever was there is gone, leaving me with a lingering sense of unease.

With Nick gone, I book an Uber to take me to school. After grabbing a quick coffee from the pantry, I make my way to the open field. I sit on a familiar bench and watch the players already practicing. Some are running drills, others working on their routines. The energy of the field is comforting, even if I'm just a spectator today.

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This place brings back memories. I used to hang out here, waiting for him—Jaimes. He wasn't a player, but we liked coming here together, finding solace in the calmness of the open field before the day fully began. The thought of him stirs something deep inside me, an ache I've been carrying for far too long.

I wonder how my day would feel if Jaimes were still here with me. Guilt washes over me, heavy and unwelcome. I hate that I still think about him, that I can't seem to let go, even though I know I should. The weight of the past clings to me, and I don't know how to break free.

I look up at the sky, trying to blink away the tears welling in my eyes. The bright, blue-white expanse above seems endless, a reminder that life goes on. But here I am, still stuck in the past.

"I need to move on," I whisper to myself, the words feeling fragile, almost hollow. "I need to let Jaimes go."

I bite my lip, trying to push the memories aside. Jaimes had his time in my life, but he's gone now. It's time to focus on the present, to stop clinging to what can never be again. I watch the players on the field, their laughter and energy pulling me out of my head, grounding me in the now.

But no matter how hard I try, Jaimes lingers in my thoughts, like a ghost haunting the edges of my mind. I can almost hear his voice, see his smile. It frustrates me, this inability to move on. I hate feeling so tethered to something that's long gone.

Today is a new day, I remind myself. Today, I choose to move forward.

Just as I'm trying to center myself, a voice pulls me from my reverie.

"Arwen? Is that you?"

I turn to my left and see him—Clayton. The sight of him makes me instinctively stand from my seat, my body going rigid with a mixture of shock and annoyance. I don't say anything, just stare at him, my mind swirling with memories of who he used to be in my life.

"Hey, it's me, Clayton, remember?" He smiles as if it's no big deal, like the years and the hurt he caused didn't matter. He looks almost exactly the same—still handsome, still that same air of arrogance.

I don't smile back. Instead, I glare at him, the weight of our shared past heavy between us. He must have sensed the tension, because he quickly raised his hands in surrender.

"Arwen, I won't do anything bad, I swear. I just wanted to say hi, that's all."

His voice is calm, but I can't shake the suspicion bubbling up inside me. Why now? Why, after all this time, did Clayton suddenly reappear? First Jaimes, now Clayton—it feels like the ghosts of my past are lining up, demanding my attention when all I want is to move forward.

"You wanted to say hi?" I say, my voice sharp. "Well, you've said it. Now we're done."

Clayton's confident demeanor falters for a moment. He clears his throat awkwardly, his eyes dropping to the ground. "Okay, Arwen. I get it," he says, his tone softer now, almost regretful. "I'll go."

I watch as he turns and walks away, his figure disappearing down the path. The sight of him stirs emotions I've worked hard to suppress, memories I thought I had buried long ago. But as he fades into the distance, I realize something—I'm not the same person I was back then. I'm stronger now, and I won't let Clayton, or the past, have any more power over me.

This time, I'm the one walking away.