Love, Rewritten:(A Girls’ Love Story).

The world had forgotten them.

That's how it felt waking up the next morning like slipping into a dream stitched together with missing pieces. Names vanished from contact lists. Photos blurred at the edges. Social media feeds filled with familiar places but absent faces.

Rowan stared at her phone screen for a long time. She searched her gallery, flipping through pictures that should've had Elara in them. Birthdays, vacations, mundane coffee runs. They were all there—except Elara was not.

Not even a shadow of her remained.

She glanced toward the living room. Elara was curled on the couch beneath a gray throw blanket, sipping tea with trembling fingers. The journal sat silent on the coffee table, its pages closed, its magic spent.

Rowan sat beside her.

"They don't remember you," she said softly. "Not even my sister."

Elara nodded. "Chiara tried to call me last night. But the number no longer exists. I'm not even in her contacts anymore."

"And your books?" Rowan asked.

Elara swallowed. "Every manuscript I ever published is now credited to someone named L.E. Morris. I googled myself this morning. I don't exist."

They fell silent, the weight of their decision sinking deeper with each breath.

They had saved each other.

But at a cost.

The world had forgotten Elara Morel and Rowan Wynn.

Or at least, who they used to be.

Later that day, Rowan walked into her bookstore.

Employees greeted her with bright smiles, completely unaware of the shift. She wandered the aisles, tracing her fingers along the spines of books she used to shelve with Elara during quiet evenings.

Her chest ached.

A girl with a pixie cut and leather boots waved. "Hey, Rowan! New poetry books just arrived."

Rowan nodded. "Thanks, Jules."

She walked to the back, where a shelf used to be devoted to Elara's favorites. It was gone.

No more annotated copies. No scrawled Post-its with inside jokes. No delicate origami bookmarks.

She pulled out her phone and opened her notes app.

REBUILD HER

Just two words. But they were enough.

She would build a world where Elara existed. Even if she had to do it from memory.

Elara spent the afternoon walking through the city.

Everything looked the same. But felt hollow. As if the city itself had inhaled and forgotten to breathe out.

She passed the bakery they'd once gone to after a particularly awful movie night. The barista didn't recognize her. Not even a flicker of familiarity.

"First time here?" the woman asked cheerfully.

Elara nodded. "Something like that."

She took her coffee and sat by the window.

The bell above the door jingled. A mother and daughter entered. The little girl dropped a toy rabbit, and Elara bent to pick it up.

"Thank you," the child whispered.

Elara smiled. "Take good care of her. Rabbits are sensitive souls."

The girl giggled.

And for just a second, Elara felt seen.

Not remembered. Not recognized.

But acknowledged.

It was enough.

That night, Rowan and Elara sat side by side on the fire escape, wrapped in a shared blanket. The city lights shimmered below.

"Do you regret it?" Rowan asked.

Elara thought about it.

About all she'd lost. About the world that no longer knew her name. About the friends who would never remember the nights they danced in moonlight or sang karaoke in terrible harmony.

She looked at Rowan.

"No," she said. "Because you're still here."

Rowan rested her head on Elara's shoulder. "We can make new memories."

"And maybe," Elara whispered, "we'll leave behind whispers for the world to find."

In the weeks that followed, they created rituals.

Rowan built a hidden shelf at the back of her store, filling it with the books Elara once loved. She wrote their names on the wall behind the shelf, invisible unless you angled the light just right.

Elara rewrote her favorite poems, embedding messages in the margins, tucking them into library books and secondhand shelves. Each note signed simply: E.M.

Somewhere between forgotten and found, they carved a space for themselves.

A story the world didn't know.

But one they remembered.

Together.