Andrew fed Limba and shuffled off to bed, exhaustion weighing heavy on him. As soon as his head hit the pillow, sleep claimed him, drawing him into a dream so vivid it felt like slipping back in time.

There she was—Jenny. Bright, beautiful, and full of energy, her laughter filling the air like music. Her smile was infectious, the kind that could make even the gloomiest day feel like spring. Andrew—or *Andee*, as she’d always called him—couldn’t help but grin as he watched her.

“Andee!” she called, spinning around to face him on the pavement. “Hurry up, slowcoach! You’re worse than my gran!”

“I’m carrying *your* bag, remember?” he called back, hefting her schoolbag over his shoulder. “I think you’ve packed half the school in here. What’ve you got in this thing, bricks?”

Jenny laughed, the sound bubbling up like champagne. “Don’t be daft! Just a few books and—” she paused, tapping her chin in mock thought, “—oh, maybe a brick or two, for self-defence. You never know, Andee!”

He chuckled, catching up and playfully nudging her with his shoulder. “You’re trouble, you are.”

“I know,” she said, flashing him a cheeky grin. “But you love it.”

The dream whisked them to their favourite pizzeria, where the smell of melted cheese and fresh dough greeted them like an old friend. Sliding into their usual booth, Jenny let out a dramatic sigh.

“I’m *starving*, Andee,” she announced, throwing her arms over the back of the seat. “Think they’ll give us a discount if I tell them I’m wasting away?”

“You? Wasting away?” Andrew laughed, shaking his head. “You had chips after school!”

“That was ages ago!” Jenny declared, her eyes wide with mock indignation. “A girl’s gotta eat, you know.”

Their laughter filled the little booth as the waitress brought their usual—a large margherita with extra cheese and two fizzy drinks. Jenny immediately reached across and snatched a slice from Andrew’s plate, giggling as she dodged his half-hearted attempt to stop her.

“Oi!” he protested. “That’s mine, you cheeky mare!”

“Sharing is caring,” she teased, taking a big bite and grinning at him with her mouth full.

Andrew shook his head, trying to look annoyed but failing miserably. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yep,” she said with a laugh, leaning across the table and booping his nose with her finger. “And you love me for it.”

Later, they found themselves outside under a streetlamp, the snow falling in soft, lazy flakes. Jenny twirled in the light, laughing as she tried to catch snowflakes on her tongue.

“You look ridiculous,” Andrew said, laughing as he watched her spin.

“Ridiculously *charming*, you mean,” she shot back, sticking out her tongue.

“Sure, if charming means daft,” he teased, stepping closer to pull her into his arms.

She giggled, resting her head against his chest. “Do you ever think about the future, Andee?”

“All the time,” he said softly, brushing a snowflake from her cheek. “Seven years, Jen. We’ll finish school, conquer uni, and then it’s you and me, forever.”

Jenny tilted her head back, her eyes sparkling. “Forever’s a long time, you know. You sure you’re up for it?”

“Cross my heart,” Andrew replied, his voice steady.

Jenny laughed again, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him tight. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now.”

Their laughter echoed into the snowy night, a sound so pure and full of joy that it made the world feel smaller and safer.

That night, Andrew’s dream shifted, turning darker and more harrowing. The warm, tender memories of their youth—the laughter, the plans, the stolen kisses—morphed into a scene he couldn’t quite comprehend. Suddenly, Jenny was there again, but she wasn’t the lively, radiant girl he adored. She was vulnerable, her spirit dimmed, her eyes filled with pain.

In the haze of the dream, Andrew stood frozen, his body unable to move as if rooted to the ground. In front of him stood a man he didn’t recognize—tall, imposing, with a cruel sneer etched across his face. It had to be her boyfriend. Andrew’s stomach churned with a mixture of anger and helplessness.

“Is this what you’ve become, eh?” the man sneered at Jenny, his words dripping with contempt. His voice was a cold, biting contrast to the warmth Andrew remembered in their past. “Pathetic.”

Jenny didn’t reply. She stood there silently, her face pale, her lips trembling as though she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the strength.

Andrew's fists clenched, his heart pounding against his ribs. “Oi!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the surreal void of the dream. “Leave her alone!”

The man turned his gaze to Andrew, his face unreadable but unnervingly calm. “And who’re you, then?” he mocked, his tone dismissive. “Another bloke who thinks he can save her?” He laughed—a hollow, spiteful sound that made Andrew’s blood boil.

Jenny turned to Andrew, her lips forming the faintest whisper of his name: “Andee...” Her voice was barely audible, a plea that broke his heart.

Andrew lunged forward, desperate to reach her, but it was as though the air itself conspired against him, holding him back, weighing him down. He struggled, shouting her name, his fury building as the man moved closer to her, his taunts growing louder, more demeaning.

“No!” Andrew roared, his voice raw with emotion. “You don’t touch her! You don’t—”

But the scene shifted again, and suddenly, Jenny was falling. He didn’t see how, or why, but the ground beneath her disappeared, and she plummeted into an abyss that seemed to swallow her whole.

“JENNY!” Andrew screamed, his voice reverberating through the dream like a siren. He reached out, his hand grasping at nothing but air. The man stood there watching, his expression unreadable, his presence a silent, mocking witness to Andrew’s helplessness.

Andrew dropped to his knees, the anger still simmering, but now mingling with a hollow, aching despair. This couldn’t be real. Not in the dream. Not in life. Jenny couldn’t be gone. Not like this.

In the surreal logic of dreams, Andrew found himself whispering to himself, over and over, like a mantra: “She’s not gone. She’s not gone. She’s not gone...”

The dream began to dissolve, the edges blurring like a watercolour painting caught in the rain. But the emotions lingered—anger, grief, disbelief—pressing against his chest like an unbearable weight. Even as the light of morning began to break through, pulling him from sleep, the echo of Jenny’s faint voice and that sinister man’s laughter stayed with him, haunting the space between dream and reality.