Adrian woke late the next morning with a dull ache behind his eyes. His head throbbed, and for a moment he could not recall where he was. A faint scent lingered around him, warm and soft, something that pulled at his memory in a way that stung unexpectedly.
It was her scent.
A wave of familiarity washed over him, so vivid that he almost felt her fingertips brushing his cheek the way they used to when he could not see anything at all. He blinked hard, sitting up slowly. What had happened last night? He remembered drinking. He remembered feeling frustrated and alone. And he remembered calling someone.
His feet touched the floor, and he frowned.
He did not remember getting into bed.
He did not remember changing.
He pushed himself to stand and walked downstairs.
When he reached the living area, he paused in confusion. The bottles that had been scattered the night before were gone. The glasses were washed. The floor was clean.
Someone had been here.
Someone who knew the house.
Someone who cared enough to clean up after him.
His heart tightened painfully.
He reached the dining table and noticed his phone placed neatly beside a glass of water. It was positioned in the exact way she used to place it during the period she took care of him.
He picked it up and he checked that his last call from the night before was to her.
Elara.
Adrian sat down slowly, his fingers curling around the edge of the table. He closed his eyes, letting the silence settle.
And then something broke open inside him.
Memories flickered through his mind, faint at first, then sharper.
Elara entering his home for the very first time, her footsteps careful and unsure.
The warmth of the first meal she cooked for him.
Her voice guiding him through the all day when his world was still in darkness.
Her hand on his sleeves, guiding him wherever they go. The nights when she lay beside him, her breath soft against his neck. Her laughter, her touch, her warmth and her everything.
Then the memory shifted. The sound of an impact, her scream and then darkness and pain. And then the weight of her crying somewhere near him.
Adrian's breath caught, his chest tightening.
He pressed his fingers to his temple, overwhelmed by the onrush of fragmented images. They came too quickly, almost painful, yet comforting in their familiarity.
Why were these pieces coming back now?
He opened his eyes, and the ache in his chest deepened.
"Elara," he said softly, almost pleading, his voice trembling with things he could not yet understand.
"What did I lose?"
He sat like that for a long time, fighting the confusion and the strange, hollow ache spreading through his chest. He could not remember everything, but one truth pressed sharper than all the rest.
He had not wanted her to go.
Not then.
Not now.
Not ever.
***
Adrian did not hesitate.
The moment the last fragment of memory settled into place, he reached for his phone and called Rowen. His hand trembled slightly as he waited for the line to connect.
"Rowen," he said the instant his friend answered. His voice was low, tight with emotion. "I remember. I remember almost everything."
There was a pause on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath. "Adrian… are you serious?"
"Yes," Adrian said. "I need to talk to someone who knows. I can't sit alone with this. Can I come over? I need to see you and Emi."
"Of course," Rowen replied without hesitation. "We'll be waiting."
After ending the call, Adrian went to wash up. Cold water steadied him, but his thoughts refused to slow. As he changed out of his sleepwear and into casual clothes, his hands paused at the buttons of his shirt.
A memory surfaced without warning.
Elara standing close to him the night before, her fingers steady as she helped him change when he was barely conscious. Her touch had been gentle, careful not to embarrass him. The way she spoke to him then had been soft, coaxing, patient, like she was afraid to break him.
His chest tightened.
Even drunk, even lost, he had felt safe with her.
Adrian let out a slow breath, pressing a hand briefly to his chest before finishing dressing. The warmth that memory left behind stayed with him as he got into his car and drove to Rowen and Emi's place.
Rowen opened the door before Adrian could knock. One look at Adrian's face told him everything.
"You look like you haven't slept," Rowen said quietly.
"I had too much to drink yesterday," Adrian replied.
Emi came forward at once, worry written plainly on her face. "Sit down. Tell us everything."
They settled together, and Rowen spoke first. "How are you feeling? How much do you remember?"
Adrian leaned back slightly, staring at nothing as he gathered his thoughts. "Most of it," he said slowly. "From the first day Elara walked into my house till the day I had the accident."
Rowen's expression softened. Emi's eyes filled with emotion.
"She blamed herself," Rowen said quietly. "From the moment you were brought into the hospital. She barely left your side. She kept thinking if she had reacted faster, you would not have been hurt."
Adrian swallowed hard.
"I remember waking up," he said, his voice unsteady now. "I remember seeing her for the first time. I had imagined her face so many times when I was blind. And then she was there. Shocked. Pale. Trying not to cry. I should had held her. Instead, I asked for Luna."
His hands curled into fists.
"That was the moment she broke," Emi said softly. "You have no idea how much it hurt her."
Adrian closed his eyes. His chest ached as the image returned to him. Elara standing frozen at the foot of the bed, her eyes wide, devastated, trying to disappear.
Rowen spoke again, carefully. "What was your relationship with Elara, Adrian? I never knew how far it went."
Adrian opened his eyes. "We were together. Officially, though quietly. I confessed the moment I came back from the surgery. She wanted to keep it a secret at first."
Emi pressed her lips together. "You remembered everyone except her. And you called for Luna when you woke up. I cannot imagine what Elara felt in that moment."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "I hate myself for that."
Rowen added, "She made the decision herself not to reveal the truth to you. She believed forcing your memory back would trap you in the darkest time of your life. She wanted you to move forward, even if it meant leaving."
Adrian's throat burned.
Rowen continued, "A year later. When she saw you were not happy at all. When Luna left again. That's when she started questioning herself. Whether leaving had truly been the right choice. She's been terrified that when you finally remembered, you would resent her for disappearing."
Adrian sat in silence, emotion crashing through him. He then exhaled shakily. "Thank you. For telling me everything."
He stood slowly, then hesitated. "Rowen… do you still have my old phone?"
Rowen blinked. "The keypad phone?"
"Yes."
Rowen let out a relieved breath. "I kept it. Elara asked me to throw it away when she left, but I couldn't. Something told me not to."
Adrian nodded. "I need it."
When Adrian returned home, the first thing he did was plug the old phone into a charger. It took a while to power on. When the screen finally lit up, his breath caught.
He opened the photo album.
There she was.
Elara cooking in the kitchen, unaware he had taken the photo.
Elara focused as she drove his car, sunlight catching her hair.
Elara asleep on his lap, trusting, peaceful.
Elara lying beside him on his bed, one arm curled loosely around him.
Photos taken carefully, secretly, because he had wanted to remember everything once he could see again.
Tears slid down his face without restraint.
He pressed the phone to his chest, shoulders shaking.
"I remember," he whispered hoarsely. "I remember everything now."
And this time, he would not let her go.