“Twelve,” I corrected her. Saying it out loud felt like coming to terms with something I hadn’t fully pieced together yet. “Yes.”
She laughed out loud before she realized I wasn’t joking. My mind was already moving a mile a minute. Pieces were falling into place, and none of it felt random anymore. I could see it all. Fragments of memories that didn’t connect before suddenly snapped together. Vanessa crossed her armsand leaned against the doorframe, watching me like I was a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve.
“What is this really about?”
I didn’t answer. My hands were already pulling open drawers, digging through folders, and papers flying in every direction. I knew what I was looking for; I just couldn’t figure out how to explain it.
“I’m supposed to have all the scripts I was sent here,” I muttered, barely acknowledging her. “But I can’t find it anywhere.”
Vanessa sighed, her patience clearly wearing thin as she glanced at the growing mess.
“Those are only the most recent ones. The ones from the last five years or so…”
I froze, my head snapping up to look at her.
“Where are the others?” My voice came out sharper than I intended.
She hesitated, probably debating whether or not I’d finally lost it, then walked over to a cabinet on the far side of the room. She opened the top door, pulled out two large, dust-covered folders, and set them on the table before me.
“I think they’re all there,” she said, watching me closely. Her usual sarcasm was gone, replaced by a growing concern.
I didn’t say anything. My focus was already back on the papers, flipping through them at lightning speed. The first folder yielded nothing. But when I opened the second folder, my hands froze.
There it was.
Snowdrift.
The title stared back at me from the page like a ghost. And beneath it, in small print:Written by Juliette Davis.
For a second, I couldn’t move. My hands rested on the script, but it didn’t even feel real, like the paper itself had stopped existing under my fingertips.
Memories invaded my brain. It was overwhelming.
This was it. This is how we met.
In my dreams.
It hit me like a brick, something buried deep in the back of my mind, something I should have known all along but couldn’t access until now. But dream me had always known it. Iwould havemet her. Here.
A wave of dizziness hit me.
Vanessa cut through the fog. “Are you okay? You look like you’re gonna pass out.”
My hands were clammy and my face was cold.. The room spun, and I had to sit. I couldn’t trust my legs to keep me upright.
“Do I need to call an ambulance? I’m genuinely worried.” Her voice sounded distant.
I shook my head, still lost in my own thoughts.
“We went to the meeting… but she never showed…” I said it, more to myself than to her. I felt dizzy, trying to piece it all together. “I remember.”
Things that never made sense before now clicked into place. The uncanny details in our daydreams, the way Jules felt so real, so familiar—it wasn’t a coincidence. We were meant to be together. And because of one meeting, one missed opportunity, and one dickhead producer, I lost her. A whole life withmy person, gone. The dizziness shifted into pure rage, and before I knew it, I was on my feet. In one angry motion, I swept all the papers off, sending them flying to the floor—except for the script I was still holding, which I then set down on the now empty table.
“FUCK!”
The word echoed through the room, raw and guttural. Vanessa froze. Her eyes widened in a way I’d never seen before. Nothing scared Vanessa. But this? This did.
“Chris,” she managed. I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t. Iturned to the window behind the desk, pressing one of my palms against the cool glass. With my other hand, my fingers raked through my hair, tugging at it slightly as I brought my body down a notch.
