Natalya stepped out of the bathroom, her damp hair clinging to the back of her neck. She rubbed her hand over it absentmindedly as she made her way toward the door. But just as she reached for the handle, something caught her eye.

A bag.

A fluffy, white bag sat on the nightstand by the bed.

Her brows knitted together.

She didn't remember seeing it there yesterday. She was sure the nightstand had been empty. Or maybe she didn't look around the room properly.

Slowly, she stepped toward it, hesitating for a moment before reaching out. The fabric was soft beneath her fingers, almost unnervingly so. The bag was small, lightweight. She lifted it carefully and unzipped it.

Inside, she found a wallet with a few loose coins and some cash—

And a driver's license.

Her driver's license.

Natalya's pulse quickened as she pulled it out.

The plastic card was cool against her fingertips, her own face staring back at her. Dark brown waves, brown eyes, soft pink lips. It was unmistakably her.

But she didn't remember getting a license.

Then again—what did she remember?

Natalya gripped the driver's license tightly as she hurried downstairs, her heart pounding. She needed to check. She needed to make sure the details matched. To get some clue to solve this puzzle.

Reaching the living room, she spotted her bag from yesterday, still resting on the couch where she had left it.

She dug through it with shaky hands, pulling out her ID.

Holding both cards side by side, she scanned the details.

The pictures were the same. Her dark brown waves, brown eyes, soft pink lips.

Then she looked at the name. The date of birth. Both identical.

But the addresses....

They were different.

Natalya checked again, her eyes scanning the cards for any other discrepancies, but the details remained unchanged. Was she seeing an illusion?

Her fingers trembled as she flipped the ID over, comparing the addresses.

The address on her ID read 12, Maple Drive, Brooklyn Heights. A place she didn't recognize.

But the address on her driver's license was 43, Willow Creek Road, Oakridge.

Her heart skipped a beat. Willow Creek Road. That was the address of the cabin she was staying at right now.

Her breath caught in her throat. How could the address on her driver's license match the cabin she was at?

She quickly flipped the driver's license over, her fingers shaking as she searched for the issued date.

A year ago.

She blinked, her mind racing as she processed the information.

A year ago? Does it mean she came here to Oakridge a year ago?

But her ID had been issued seven years ago.

That meant...

She was 25 years old now.

The realization hit her like a cold wave.

If everything added up, that meant twenty-five years of her life were erased.

She gasped. She looked at the cards again.
12, Maple Drive, Brooklyn Heights.

Maybe that place could give some answers. At least about her life before she turned eighteen. Or maybe after...

Without a second thought, Natalya grabbed the fluffy bag and started packing.
Her medications.
Her phone. She paused for a moment to check for new notifications. Nothing. No missed calls. No texts. The silence of the screen felt eerie, unsettling.
She tucked the phone into the bag and then packed her wallet. The unease in her stomach grew heavier.

Her mind raced as she zipped the bag shut. There was no time to waste. She needed to figure out what was going on, and that address was the only lead she had.

Taking one last look around the cabin, she hurried out the door.

The morning air hit her as soon as she stepped outside, cold and sharp against her skin.

The sky was still overcast, with a lingering grayness hanging in the air. The ground was wet, remnants of last night's rain still soaking the earth. The scent of damp pine and fresh rain filled her nostrils, mingling with the crispness of the cold.

Natalya took a deep breath, her breath escaping in small puffs as she began walking down the same path the taxi had taken to bring her here yesterday.

As she walked, her eyes darted around, scanning the surroundings.

The dense forest loomed on her right side, the tall trees swaying slightly in the breeze. The quiet was unsettling. Too quiet, as though the world itself was holding its breath.

She continued further along the path, the crunch of gravel beneath her boots the only sound that broke the silence. The more she walked, the more the eerie calmness of the place seemed to press in on her, making her feel isolated, as if she was intruding on something she didn't understand.

Then, after a few moments, she began to spot cabins on the same side as hers. They were spaced out, nestled among the trees, some well-kept while some looked abandoned, their wooden exteriors weathered and worn.

Her gaze lingered on one in particular. A small, dilapidated structure with peeling paint and overgrown ivy creeping up its walls.

The cabin seemed abandoned, as though time had forgotten it. Something about it, the way it stood there in quiet isolation, made her feel like it was waiting for her to notice.

She stared at it, her mind racing with questions, when suddenly, she felt a light touch on her arm. A hand, warm and firm, rested gently on her skin.

Startled, Natalya whipped around, her heart skipping a beat.

A small boy , his wide, dark eyes peering up at her with quiet curiosity. He couldn't have been older than six or seven, his face round with soft features.

Natalya's pulse pounded in her ears as she took a step back. "Hey there," she said cautiously, forcing a small, uneasy smile. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry..." he murmured, glancing down as he toyed with the hem of his Toy Story t-shirt. "I just thought you looked kind of familiar."

Natalya's unease deepened as she studied the boy. His dark eyes were steady, searching her face with a quiet intensity that made her chest tighten.

"Familiar?" she echoed, her voice careful. "Have we met before?"

The boy hesitated, his fingers still fidgeting with the hem of his slightly oversized Toy Story t-shirt. "I... I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe. You just look like someone I've seen before."

A chill that had nothing to do with the morning air crawled down Natalya's spine.

He has seen me before? Does he know who I am?

Before she could ask another question, a woman's voice called out from a distance.

"Diego, where are you? Breakfast is ready!"

The boy—Diego—flinched slightly at the sound, his gaze flickering toward the direction of the voice before shifting back to her.

"Gotta go. See you later," he said, flashing a small smile before turning on his heel and dashing down the path. The same one Natalya had just walked.

She stood frozen, watching him disappear, her mind buzzing with unease. Why did he think I looked familiar? So did that mean I lived here?

Questions swirled in her mind, each one more unsettling than the last. But before she could dwell on them, a sharp rumble in her stomach pulled her back to reality.

Natalya exhaled, pressing a hand to her abdomen. She hadn't eaten since yesterday.

Natalya started walking again, her steps slower this time as fatigue settled into her limbs. The damp morning air clung to her skin, and the weight of the bag on her shoulder felt heavier with each passing minute.

By the time she reached the streets, her breath was coming in short, uneven gasps. Her legs ached, and a dull throbbing had settled at the base of her skull. She paused for a moment, hands on her knees, trying to steady herself.

The streets were waking up slowly, but the silence was unsettling. Only one car passed her as she walked, its engine the only sound breaking the stillness.

The small grocery stores she had passed yesterday were still closed, their neon signs flickering weakly against the gray morning light. The convenience store, however, was open, and through the window, she saw a woman inside, cleaning with methodical movements. A bakery with its faded awning released the comforting scent of fresh bread into the air, drawing Natalya's attention.

Outside the convenience store, the same worker from the day before swept the sidewalk. He glanced up briefly as she walked past, his expression unreadable. Natalya smiled at him, but he only grunted in reply, returning to his work.

She continued on, pushing open the door to the bakery, and stepped inside the bakery, the warm air wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. The soft golden light from the overhead bulbs illuminated the rows of freshly baked bread, pastries, and cakes, the scent of flour and yeast thick in the air.

It was a welcome contrast to the cold, silent streets outside.

Behind the counter, an older woman with gray hair pulled into a neat bun looked up from the dough she was kneading. She smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling at the edges.

"Good morning," she greeted, her voice soft but welcoming.

"Hi," Natalya replied, her voice tentative. "I was wondering if I could get something to eat. Just... something simple."

"Of course," the woman said, dusting off her hands and motioning to the display. "We've got fresh rolls, croissants, and even a few savory options if you're hungry. Help yourself."

Natalya walked up to the counter, her fingers trailing along the glass case as she surveyed the selection. Everything looked so comforting, so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. The savory pastries caught her eye, and she pointed to one. "I'll take two of those, please."

The woman nodded, wrapping it up in wax paper before handing it to her. "That'll be two dollars."

Natalya fumbled for her wallet, pulling out a few crumpled bills. She handed them over, feeling the woman's eyes on her for a moment before the woman nodded and gave a soft smile.

"Anything else I can get you?" she asked.

"No, that's it. Thanks," Natalya said, clutching the warm pastry in her hand. She took a seat at one of the small tables near the window, the quiet hum of the bakery a welcome change from the stillness outside.

As she unwrapped the pastries, the warm, flaky aroma filled the air. She took a bite, savoring the comforting taste, trying to shake the questions that still swirled in her mind.

For a brief moment, she let herself forget the unease she'd felt earlier, focusing on the simple pleasure of the food in her hands. But the quiet of the town, the oddity of the encounter with Diego, and the strange feeling of familiarity still gnawed at the back of her mind.

Suddenly, without warning, a warm mug appeared in front of her.

Startled, Natalya looked up to see the bakery woman standing by her table, her hands resting on the edge of the counter. The woman smiled softly as she set the cup of warm milk down in front of her.

Natalya blinked, confused. "I didn't ask for this..."

The woman's smile deepened. "You looked like you could use something to go with your pastries. You seem like you've got a lot on your mind and plus that's on me."

Natalya hesitated, glancing at the steaming cup before meeting the woman's kind eyes.

"Thanks," she said quietly, her fingers curling around the warm mug.

The milk was soothing, the perfect complement to the flaky pastry. As she took a sip, she felt a little of the tension leave her shoulders, but the questions still lingered in the back of her mind. Why had Diego recognized her?

She set the mug down, lost in thought, as the minutes stretched on in the peaceful quiet of the bakery. The soft hum of the bakery, the scent of fresh bread, and the gentle flicker of the overhead lights gave her a sense of calm, but the questions still nagged at her mind.

With a sigh, she sat back in her chair, the warmth of the milk settling in her chest. She took the last sip, savoring the simplicity of the moment.

Getting up from the table, she walked toward the counter, offering the bakery woman a polite smile.

"Thank you," she said, her voice soft. "Everything was perfect."

The woman smiled back, her expression kind but still a bit distant. "You're welcome. Take care and do come back."

Natalya nodded and turned to leave, but just as she reached the door, something made her pause. She turned back toward the woman, hesitating for a moment.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice unsure. "Do you know how I can get to Brooklyn Heights?"

The woman's eyes flickered to the window, her gaze momentarily drifting before she pointed toward the street outside. "You'll want to head down to the bus stop over there," she said, her voice carrying a quiet certainty. "Catch Bus 176. It'll take you there."

Natalya nodded, grateful for the clear instructions. "Thanks," she said, offering a small smile before turning to leave.

As she stepped outside, the cool air hit her again, but it felt different this time. There was a direction now. She had a place to go, even if she wasn't entirely sure what she'd find when she got there.

Word Count- 2159