He stood just a few feet away, watching them silently.
He was leaner, younger, but the expression in his eyes was unmistakable—longing.
It was written across his face, etched into every part of him.
But before I could fully absorb it, Malik abruptly spoke, his voice breaking the moment.
“Look!” He gestured, forcing a grin. “We killed a deer.”
Isabelle turned to him, her smile warm. “Bring it into the shed, and I shall skin it. We’ll salt and pickle the meat.”
The scene shifted.
Faster than a blink, the sunlit memory melted into something darker.
Armand and Isabelle lay tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat, wrapped in each other’s arms.
A confined, dank-smelling space surrounded them.
I jerked back, my breath catching. “Why this image? Where are we?”
Malik’s voice was unreadable. “I don’t know.”
I turned to Roman. “Are you remembering anything?”
He shook his head, his brows knitted. “Not one thing.”
The images continued, shifting like scenes from a half-forgotten dream.
Yet through them all, one truth remained unshaken?—
Armand and Isabelle loved each other. Deeply. Fiercely. Just as Roman and I did now.
And yet…
We also loved Malik.
It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t questioned.
It was natural.
Like he had always belonged with us.
Then, the vision turned.
The warmth of love vanished, replaced by a thick, oppressive darkness.
Acrid smoke burned my lungs.
A wicked orange glow flickered outside the window.
Fire.
I knew where I was.
I was inside the cabin, Isabelle’s body curled protectively around our newborn child.
The distant clash of steel sliced through the night.
