The sky filled with its brightness, it was just the breaking of the day. Elara and Andrian can't stop talking about their love lives.

Elara Bennett stood barefoot before her easel, brush poised midair, as the sound of Adrian’s laughter drifted from behind her.

“Are you ever going to finish that piece?” he teased, leaning against the doorframe with that easy charm that always seemed to undo her. His hair, still damp from the shower, fell over his forehead in messy waves.

He wore his travel jacket — the same one she hated because it reminded her he was leaving again.

“I will,” she replied, not looking at him. “Maybe when you stop moving around long enough to stay in one place.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “You know I can’t help it. This deal is important, Elara. If it goes through, I could finally open that firm in London.”

She lowered her brush, turning to face him. “And if something happens out there? What if you don’t come back?”

She had felt it. Adrian's disappearance.

The words came out softer than she meant them to — a tremor of fear she’d tried to hide all week.

Adrian’s smile faded. “Hey,” he murmured, closing the space between them. “Nothing’s going to happen. It’s a two-week trip, that’s all. I’ll be back before you finish that painting.”

She frowned. “You’ve been saying that for the last three projects.”

“And I always come back,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You just like worrying about me. Admit it.”

“I’d rather worry than lose you,” she whispered.

He kissed her then — slow and sure, like he was sealing a vow with every breath.

" You are worried about me." " This isn't my first trip, I have be traveling for years, and had returned safely. This shouldn't be different."

" Adrian's it is. " She replied him. " I am missing you already." She replied him

When he pulled away, he reached into his pocket and drew out a small silver locket. “Then keep this,” he said, placing it gently in her palm.”

Elara’s throat tightened. “Adrian…”

“Open it.”

Inside was a tiny photo — a candid shot he’d taken of the two of them by the sea, her laughter caught mid-breath, his arm around her. On the other side was a small inscription: ‘Wherever I go, I find my way back to you.’

Her eyes stung. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it.”

“I do,” she admitted softly, tracing the edge of the locket. “I really do.”

He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Then that’s all I’ll need to come home.”

That night, they had dinner by candlelight. Adrian cooked — badly — but insisted it was part of the “romantic experience.” The pasta was overcooked, the sauce too thick, but Elara laughed anyway, watching him move around the kitchen like he was trying to memorize every second before he left.

Afterward, they danced in the living room, barefoot, to a record that crackled with age. The song — “Can’t Help Falling in Love” — was their favorite. She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him, a mix of cedarwood and warmth.

“Promise me something,” she said quietly. “Promise you’ll call every day.”

He nodded against her hair. “Every day.”

“And no reckless adventures.”

He laughed. “You make it sound like I’m going on an expedition.”

“Adrian, I’m serious.”

He lifted her chin, meeting her gaze. “Elara, I’m not going anywhere you can’t find me. You’re my home.”

The next morning, dawn came too soon. Elara stood by the window as Adrian loaded his luggage into the car. The city was just waking — streets damp with dew, the sky brushed with soft gray. He turned once, catching her watching him from the window, and smiled that same disarming smile.

When he came back inside for a final goodbye, she couldn’t hold back the tears.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, brushing them away. “You’ll make me stay.”

“Maybe I want you to.”

“You’d ruin my career.”

“I’d save my heart,” she murmured.

He kissed her one last time, deep and slow, as if trying to imprint the memory of her onto his soul. “Two weeks,” he said. “I’ll be back before you even miss me.”

“You’re already missed,” she whispered as he turned to leave.

Days passed. Then weeks.

Elara tried to keep busy — the gallery opening, the commissions, the endless stream of well-meaning friends who told her to “keep faith.” Adrian called from airports, from hotel rooms, from site visits. His voice was always bright, reassuring. “Almost done, love,” he’d say. “One more meeting, one more day.”

Then the calls stopped.

At first, she thought it was just the time difference. Then a week went by. Then two. His company called. The words blurred together — storm, communication failure, missing flight.

She dropped the phone.

The world tilted. The room went silent except for the sound of her heartbeat, heavy and hollow.

“Missing?” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. “Not dead?”

“Not confirmed,” the voice said gently. “They’re still searching.”

She clung to that word — searching — as if it could undo reality. Every night, she left the porch light on. Every morning, she checked the news.

But the weeks turned to months. The world moved on. She didn’t.

“ It became more clear to her that her instincts must have told her the truth.” If only he had listened to me. “ She said before everyone.

“ Are you aware of his disappearance.?” An anonymous person asked.

Tears ran in Elara 's eyes as she thought deep.

after consolation and hope to find Andrian. Elara sat at the locket open in her hand. The sunset bled across the sky in shades of orange and violet. She pressed the locket to her lips.

“You promised you’d come back,” she whispered. “You promised.”

Her dog, Max, whined softly, resting his head on her knee. She smiled faintly, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I know,” she murmured, “he’ll find his way home. He always does.”

She rose and turned toward the easel. The canvas she had started before he left still stood there — unfinished.

A faint sketch of a man reaching toward the horizon. She picked up her brush.

“Let’s finish it together,” she said to the silence.

The air shifted — soft, almost imperceptible. Elara had wanted to be with him.

Her heart pounded.

" I am awaiting your romantic touch. The gift you promised me, the moment to spend together on your return." She views Andrian's imagination within her.

“Adrian?” she whispered.

There were no words coming.

Can’t Help Falling in Love.

She dropped the brush, staring at the record spinning slowly, untouched.

" What has happened? I can't believe this."

Her voice trembled. “Adrian?”

No answer. Just the echo of the song, and her tears falling quietly onto the floor.

" Andrian, where are you?" Elara stood watching from the mirror.

" Max." She called the dog which sat closer to her.

" Did you see Andrian.?" She asked Max which just sat breathing. It tears my ears.

" Come let's go search for him. Maybe he is around." She walked as the dog walked with her.

Months later, Elara was yet to hear from Andrian. Instead all she could hear from the sitting room was the sound of the clock.

Tick.

Tock.

Still here. Still waiting.

Elara sat curled on the sofa, knees drawn to her chest, a blanket wrapped loosely around her. The TV flickered in the background — muted news reports about storms, missing flights, and search efforts that had long gone cold. She wasn’t watching. Her gaze was distant, fixed somewhere between memory and the hollow ache of now.

Max stirred at her feet, his soft whine breaking the silence.

She reached down absently, fingers running through his fur. “You miss him too, don’t you?” she whispered.

The dog lifted his head, as if listening for something.

Elara frowned. “What is it?”

Then she heard it — faint at first, like the sound of someone humming. A low, soothing hum, the same melody Adrian used to make when he painted beside her. It drifted through the studio like a half-remembered lullaby.

Her breath caught.

“Adrian?” she called softly.

The humming stopped.

She stood, her expectation went higher. " Who could that be.?" She asked herself. Max walked with her around.

Her hands were clean. The brush is still dry. Yet the paint was fresh — glistening faintly under the light.

A chill rippled through her. She turned in a slow circle, her eyes darting to every shadowed corner. “Adrian?” she whispered again, her voice barely audible.

Only silence answered. But the air smelled faintly — unmistakably — of cedarwood.

That scent again.

His scent.

She stumbled back, gripping the side of the easel as her breath came shallow. “This isn’t real,” she whispered. “You’re not here.”

The record player in the corner crackled to life — not the same song as before, but another they’d danced to once: “Beyond the Sea.”

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t touched it. It hadn’t worked for weeks.

Tears filled her eyes as the familiar voice of Bobby Darin filled the air.

“Somewhere beyond the sea, someone’s waiting for me…”

Her heart twisted. She sank to her knees, pressing a trembling hand to her chest. “If this is you,” she murmured, “if you’re really here… please, give me something. Say something.”

But only the song replied.

Then the doorbell rang.

Elara blinked, startled.

No one visited this early.

She opened the door and froze.

A man stood there — tall, dark-haired, his eyes a striking gray that caught the morning light in a way that made her breath falter. He wore a charcoal coat, rain-speckled, and held an envelope in his hand. For one impossible second, her heart stopped.

He looked just like Adrian.

“Miss Bennett?” he said softly. His voice was calm, polite — but the timbre, the tone… it was his.

She gripped the doorframe. “Who… who are you?”

He hesitated, studying her face with quiet intensity. “My name is Daniel. Daniel Cole.”

Her heart lurched. “Cole?”

Her lips parted. “That’s Adrian’s surname.”

"How on earth did you get here.?" She asked him with surprise on her face.

Daniel walked around her beauty picture.

She stepped back, voice shaking. “What is this? Some kind of joke?"" Who are you.?" She expects her dog to come back. Instead the dog walks around Daniel like the way it does to Andrian.

" Max, come here. " She shouted at Max, still can't come forward.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said quickly. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was told I might find you here. I—” He exhaled, visibly struggling for words. “I’ve been looking for him too.”

Elara’s pulse raced. “You… you know him?” " Andrian never told me he has a twin brother."

" What do you mean by that.?" Daniel asked him.

" Do you know him.?" She asked him the second time.

He nodded. “Yes. In a way. I think we may be… connected.” He handed her the envelope. “This was found among his things.”

She took it with trembling hands. The handwriting on the front was unmistakable — Adrian’s slanted script. For Elara.

Her knees nearly gave way.

“Where was this found?” she asked weakly.

Daniel’s eyes softened. “They recovered some of the wreckage. I was asked to help identify certain items. That’s how I… came across this.”

Elara swallowed hard. “But how do you look—”

“Like him?” he finished quietly.

She nodded.

He smiled faintly, almost sadly. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

Daniel glanced around the room with a kind of reverence. His gaze lingered on the paintings, on the locket resting by the window, on the photograph of her and Adrian smiling by the sea.

“You painted these?” he asked.

She nodded. “They were… ours.”

He nodded slowly. “He spoke of you, didn’t he?”

She blinked. “How do you—”

But he didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze fixed on the half-finished canvas by the easel — the one she swore had changed on its own. For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, quietly, he murmured, “I’ve seen this before.”

Elara stared. “What do you mean?”

“In my dreams,” he said. “Every night since I woke up in the hospital. That same image — a man reaching toward the light.” He turned to her, gray eyes clouded with confusion. “And I don’t know why.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. The room spun.

“How could you… know that?” she whispered.

He met her gaze, something unreadable in his expression — sorrow, wonder, maybe even fear. “I don’t know. But every time I close my eyes, I feel like he’s there — like he’s trying to tell me something.”

Elara’s eyes filled again, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

The wind outside rose suddenly, rattling the windows.

And for just a second — only a second — the faint scent of cedarwood swept through the room again.

Daniel’s eyes widened. “Do you smell that?”

Elara nodded, her voice breaking. “Yes.”

They stood there — two strangers bound by one ghost, one love, one impossible connection, she had watched stronger.

Inside, the photograph trembled slightly, as if touched by an unseen hand.

Then comes a report from the police.

" Did you find him.?" She asked.

" They both nodded their heads."

" Isn't that Andrian, twin. ?" One of the police said to her.

" No, I am Daniel."

Andrian appeared before Daniel.

" Do not tell them you are gone. " Andrian warned Daniel.

" Young man, who are you staring at over there.?" The police asked him

" Goodbye." Andrian said immediately he looked at Elara who wasn't seeing him, non heard her.

Daniel stood still, with eye focus on Andrian position.

“ Please take him out of this place.” Elara said to the police.

Andrian gets into Daniel and speaks.

“ I am going nowhere, this is my house.” He said.

“ He speaks and acts more like Andrian.” The police were amazed.

“ Do you know anything about him?” The investigate him

“ What do you expect me to know about Andrian? “ Daniel speaks.

The police breathed in shock, and had to leave immediately. Andrian remains in Daniel's body.

He hadn’t stopped studying her, though not in a way that felt invasive. His gaze carried that same quiet ache Adrian’s had — thoughtful, restrained, as though he were searching for something just out of reach.

Every time she met his eyes, she saw traces of the man she’d lost: the curve of his jaw, the faint scar by his temple, even the subtle way he tilted his head when listening. It was all too familiar — and yet, not.

Daniel wasn’t Adrian. He couldn’t be.

“So you were… close?” he asked gently, breaking the stillness. “ You still wonder.?” He added with a smile.

Elara hesitated, her throat tightening. “We were engaged,” she whispered. “He was supposed to come back last March. But the plane…” She trailed off, unable to say the rest.

Daniel’s expression softened with quiet grief. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been.”

Her fingers tightened around the mug. “I thought I was getting better,” she murmured. “Until you showed up. Until you looked at me with his eyes.”

Daniel dropped his gaze, guilt flickering across his face. “I didn’t mean to bring pain.”

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s not that. It’s just—” She exhaled. “You said you’d been dreaming of that painting. The one with the man reaching toward the light. Why?”

“I don’t know,” he said, brow furrowing. “When I woke up in the hospital, the doctors said I’d been found unconscious near the northern coast. I had a head injury — no ID, no memory of how I got there. But when they showed me photographs of the crash site…” He hesitated. “It was the same stretch of beach from my dreams.”

Elara’s breath hitched. “The same beach where they found fragments of the wreckage?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Her pulse quickened. “Then maybe you were—”

“I wasn’t on that plane,” he interrupted softly. “I checked. The passenger list didn’t include my name. But somehow, I know it. The sound of the sea, the fire in the sky — it’s like I’ve been there before, just… from the other side.”

Elara’s fingers trembled against the mug. “The other side?”

He lifted his gaze to hers, voice low. “The space between living and not. That silence before waking. Sometimes I think… he’s still there.”

She swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “Adrian.”

“Yes.”

The name hung between them, fragile as glass.

Outside, the wind brushed against the windows, carrying the faint hum of distant thunder.

Daniel leaned forward, his hand resting lightly on the table. “Can I ask you something?”

Elara nodded wordlessly.

“Before he disappeared… did he ever mention strange dreams? Or hearing things that didn’t make sense?”

She blinked, startled. “How did you—?”

“I see them,” Daniel murmured. “Flashes. His hands painting by candlelight, his voice whispering something I can’t understand. Sometimes it feels like… like his memories are bleeding into mine.”

Her heart skipped. “That’s impossible.”

He gave a small, humorless smile. “So is waking up with another man’s face.”

Elara rose from her chair, pacing toward the window. The rain had thinned into a drizzle, silver threads glinting against the glass. She pressed a hand to the cold pane, her reflection blurring beside his in the faint light.

“Adrian used to tell me,” she said softly, “that love doesn’t end. That it just… changes shape. Like water, finding new rivers to flow through.” She turned to him. “Do you think that’s what this is? Some… shape of him trying to find me again?”

Daniel’s voice was barely audible. “Maybe.”

Their eyes met — a quiet collision of grief and wonder. And in that moment, something in the air shifted. The faint scent of cedarwood returned, curling through the room like smoke.

Elara froze. Daniel’s head turned sharply toward the source.

“Do you smell that?” she whispered.

He nodded slowly. “Yes. It’s the same as before.”

Then, a sound — faint but clear — drifted from the studio. A single note from the record player, though no record had been placed upon it. Elara’s chest tightened as the low hum began again. Adrian’s hum.

She turned to Daniel, her face pale. “He’s here.”

Without thinking, she rushed into the studio. The air inside felt heavier, warmer, almost breathing. The painting stood beneath the lamplight — and once again, it had changed.

Now the man’s fingertips touched the light. And from that light, another hand reached back.

Elara stumbled back, hand over her mouth. “No… no, it can’t—”

Daniel appeared behind her, eyes wide as he took in the scene. “It’s him,” he whispered. “He’s reaching through.”

Tears filled her eyes. “For what?”

Daniel stepped closer to the canvas, his hand lifting almost unconsciously toward the painted figure. “Maybe for us.”

“Elara, don’t—” she began, but it was too late.

His fingertips brushed the surface — and the room pulsed with sudden warmth. The light flickered. For a heartbeat, everything slowed. The scent of cedar deepened, mingled with salt air, and faint whispers filled the air like echoes trapped in glass.

Elara staggered, gripping the wall. “What’s happening?”

Daniel drew back, gasping. His hand shook violently, and when she looked closer, faint traces of gold shimmered along his skin — gone a moment later.

“I saw something,” he whispered hoarsely. “The sea… fire… and him — standing in the water, calling your name.”

Elara’s vision blurred. “You saw Adrian?”

He nodded weakly. “He said… ‘Tell her I’m not gone.’”

Her knees nearly gave way. She reached out, grasping his arm for balance, tears slipping down her face. “Why you?” she whispered. “Why does he speak to you?”

Daniel’s voice trembled. “Maybe because I’m part of him.”

For a long time, neither moved. The only sound was the soft crackle of the storm’s tail fading into silence.

Then Daniel turned to her, eyes glistening. “Elara, I need to know what he was working on before he left. Anything — letters, sketches, notes. Something that connects to this.”

She hesitated, still trembling. “There was a notebook,” she said at last. “But I could never open it. It was sealed with a lock I didn’t have the key for.”

“Where is it?”

She led him to a drawer in the studio desk. Inside lay a worn leather book, darkened with time. A tiny silver clasp sealed it shut, engraved with the initials A.C.

Daniel touched the lock gently — and with a faint metallic click, it opened.

Elara gasped. “I’ve tried for months—”

He looked just as shocked. “I didn’t even—”

They exchanged a wary glance before he turned the cover.

The first page held a charcoal sketch — the same image from the painting. Beneath it, in Adrian’s handwriting, were five words that chilled her to the bone:

“When the storm ends, follow him.”

Elara’s voice trembled. “Follow him where?”

Daniel’s gaze flickered downward. “There’s more.”

Finally, near the end, one note stood out, scrawled in haste:

“If the light finds another vessel, don’t be afraid. Love will know its way home.”

Elara’s hand covered her mouth, her eyes widening. “Vessel…” She looked up at him, her voice breaking. “Daniel… he meant you.”

He shook his head, stepping back. “That’s not possible.”

“Then how else do you explain this?” she whispered, pointing to the painting, the lock, the scent that returned whenever he was near. “You found his letter. You look like him. You dream his dreams.”

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “I don’t know what I am anymore. I just know I can’t leave until I understand why I was drawn to you.”

" You don't understand yourself, how do you expect me to trust you.?" She asked him obviously.

" There's no need to trust me, rather believe me to find him."

Elara’s heart ached — torn between fear and longing. She stepped closer, her voice soft but steady. “Then stay.”

He froze, staring at her.

“Stay,” she repeated. “Until we find out what this is. Until we know where he is — or what he’s become.”

Daniel searched her eyes for a long, breathless moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. “All right.”

" But don't come anywhere close to me." She spoke on how she detest him.

" Shouldn't I help anymore." He asked her.

" Maybe I don't want your help. Besides, the police are searching around. I believe they will find him."

" Am I a stranger.?" He asked just as Andrian has always asked questions.

" I am supposed to be committed to him in search of my man. But no, he might be a dangerous stranger."

" What are you thinking about?" Daniel got her attention.

" Excuse me." She stood and left. Max followed her immediately.

" You seem to be familiar with that stranger." Elara asked Max. Max ran fast to Daniel and started playing with him.

" He plays Ike Andria, even Max got connected to him." Elara said within herself.

Max shocked its tail around, then sat on the floor, its face focused on Daniel.

" Who are you.?" She asked Daniel again.

" Why not swim with me.?" Daniel asked with a tone sounding like Andria's.

" Come on Elara, it has been a long time since we played."

" I don't know you from Adam." She replied with shock..

" Are you his ghost.?"

Elara yet to ask properly, Andria left Daniel's body, for a moment, and stood before the wall.

" Get her attention, make sure she loves you." Andrian told Daniel.

"Love....?" He asked.

" You have started again." Elara asked him.

" Who are you speaking with.?" She asked him without hesitation.

" Maybe someone you know.?" Said Daniel.

Daniel stared at Elara, then asked Adrian Ghost. " She is arrogant, you can't expect me to marry her."

Elara, trying to leave, broke a glass cup.