I woke up slowly.
Not all at once never all at once.
Consciousness crept back in pieces the weight of the blanket, the dull ache behind my eyes, the faint sting of tears dried on my lashes.
And the warmth.
That was the first thing that felt wrong.
Someone was there.
My body stiffened instantly, panic sparking before thought could catch up. My hand moved on instinct. And closed around familiar fingers.
I froze.
Cyrus.
He was sitting beside the bed, shoulders slumped forward, head tilted slightly like he'd been fighting sleep and losing. His hand was still where I'd grabbed it, like he hadn't dared pull away.
He hadn't left.
Something in my chest cracked not sharp, not loud. Just a quiet fracture, the kind you don't notice until you breathe too deep and realize something inside you has shifted.
"I woke you," I said. My voice sounded wrong. Scratchy. Fragile.
His head lifted immediately. Too fast. Like he'd been waiting.
"No," he said. "I was already awake."
Of course he was.
I loosened my grip but didn't let go. Not completely. I wasn't ready to test what would happen if I did.
The room was dim, washed in early morning light. Pale. Calm. Nothing like the storm still echoing in my head. For a second, I didn't know where I was or when.
Then it came rushing back.
The house.
The truth.
The memories.
My chest tightened.
"I dreamt again," I said.
"Do you remember the boy I told you about?" I asked and he nodded.
"I was in the woods," I continued. "I was little. I couldn't find them. I kept calling, but my voice wouldn't work."
His jaw tightened. Barely noticeable. I noticed anyway.
"There was a cottage," I said slowly. My heart started to race. "I remember a blanket that smelled old. Dusty. Cold."
His breath caught.
That tiny sound that was what told me this wasn't just a dream.
I looked at him properly then.
Really looked.
The exhaustion carved into his face. The guilt sitting so heavy on his shoulders it looked like it had weight. The way his other hand was curled into a fist, knuckles pale, like he'd been holding himself together by force alone.
"You were there," I said.
It wasn't a question.
Silence stretched between us. Not empty loaded. Trembling.
"Yes," he said finally.
Something inside me went very still.
"I remember you," I whispered. "Not your face. Just… the feeling. Like if I stayed close enough, the dark wouldn't touch me."
My throat burned.
"I didn't know that was you," I said. "Not until now."
"I know," he replied quietly.
I finally understood why he always said he has been watching me fir a long time. Why I felt safe I'm his presence and why I could trust him when I barely knew him.
I swallowed. My hand tightened in his again, this time deliberately.
"You stayed," I said. "Back then. And now."
"I always stayed." he replied
That landed harder than anything else.
I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing through the ache in my chest. The anger was still there sharp, unresolved but it was tangled now with something else. Something complicated. Something terrifyingly close to gratitude.
"When I woke up screaming," I said, "I thought I was alone."
He shook his head immediately. "You weren't."
I opened my eyes.
"I don't know what to do with everything I remember," I admitted. "I don't know who I'm supposed to be now."
His gaze softened. Not pity. Never that.
"You don't have to know yet," he said. "You just have to wake up. One day at a time."
I studied him for a long moment.
"You're not leaving, are you?" I asked.
Not accusatory. Honest.
"No," he said. No hesitation. No conditions. "I'm right here."
Something in me finally finally let go.
I leaned back into the pillows, still holding his hand, and let myself breathe without counting the seconds between each inhale.
"Okay," I said softly.
Outside, the city was waking up. Inside, something new was beginning to take shape uncertain, fragile, but real.
For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was bracing for impact.
I felt… here.
And I wasn't alone.
"Cyrus thank you for back then" I said and he just smiled.