It’s my phone that finally draws my attention. Sienna has texted the group chat with me and Violet.
You guys want to try out the new café down the street after work?
I almost say no, but if I don’t talk about this knot in my chest, I may actually explode.
Yes. I need you guys.
Sienna replies almost instantly.
You okay?
Violet’s dots appear for a brief moment before her reply comes in.
I’ll be there. And yeah, you okay, Anne?
I reply with a thumbs up emoji that feels like a lie.
The rest of the day floats by in fragments. I answer emails without reading them properly. Someone passes by—Derek, maybe—and tells a joke that I don’t bother to listen to. The tight smile and nod I manage make my face feel borrowed. By the time I leave the office, the sun has dropped low, throwing long, gold reflections from the glass building over the sidewalk. I keep my head down and walk over to the café on Elm.
My friends are already here when I walk in, sitting next to each other in the corner booth by a window that looks out on the quiet street. They are both on the side facing the front door, and they look up when the bell jingles. I walk over and slide in across from them.
Sienna’s smile falters the second she sees my face. She reaches over the table, her fingers brushing the back of my hand. “Hey.”
“Hey.” My voice comes out thinner than I want it to.
Violet leans forward, a steaming mug in her hands. “You look like you’ve been through hell. What happened?”
I open my mouth, but it closes immediately, and I shut my eyes as I take a deep breath. The words feel too big, but I manage to force them out.
“It’s Kain.”
Violet glances between Sienna and me, confused. “The new head of security? What about him?”
Sienna looks at me, waiting for permission. I nod once.
She quickly fills Violet in. “Anne knows him. From before.” She hesitates, then says it plainly. “They were fated mates.”
Violet’s eyes go wide. Her mug clinks against the table as she sets it down a bit too fast. “Wait. The guy you told us about? I thought you said he died!”
I nod. My throat is tight as I speak. “Yeah. After all these years, he just…walked into the conference room yesterday. Alive.”
Violet’s hand flies to her mouth. The shock soon wears off, and her eyes start to shine brightly. “This is fantastic news, Anne!”
The hopeful look on her face makes my chest ache worse. I shake my head slowly. “He doesn’t remember me.”
Violet’s excitement dies instantly. “What?”
“He says he has amnesia.” I pause, trying to steady myself because saying these words out loud feels like swallowing a terrible pill. “I went to his office yesterday. I tried to speak with him, but he had no clue who I was. Then, this morning, he told me he was in an accident and woke up in a hospital with no memories. Everything from before that day is just…gone. He doesn’t remember that part of his life. He doesn’t remember me.”
Violet’s expression grows somber. She sits back, her brows knitting together. Sienna’s hand squeezes mine, and for several minutes, we all just sit there. No one speaks, because what is there to say? How would anyone know what to say in a situation like this?
I finally break the silence. “Every year, I’d go and lay flowers at the memorial site for him. And it would haunt me, the thought that he died in that war. But now”—my voice cracks—“finding out that he woke up one day…surrounded by strangers…not knowing who he is…”
“That’s why he never came back,” Violet says, her voice low, thoughtful. “He must’ve had no memory of where he came from. He didn’t remember he had a home to come back to.”
“Yeah.” I swallow. “I keep thinking how awful that must have been. Not knowing where to go. Not knowing you had people waiting for you, missing you. I should feel sorry for him. I do feel sorry for him. But mostly, I just feel…”
The sentence dies in my mouth.
