Page 180 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

I stared ahead, stunned, my heart pounding in my throat.

Cassian had just signed “I love you” to me.

Hours later, I was in my pajamas, curled on the couch, pretending to watch television.

The screen flickered with images I wasn’t seeing, sounds I wasn’t hearing. My mind was elsewhere—running in circles, replaying everything. Every word he’d said. Every look. The way his thumb had traced my knuckles. The way his eyes had held mine when he said he had his whole life to wait.

I love you. Three words, signed into the night air as my car pulled away.

I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the echo of that moment.

I was so deep in the spiral that I didn’t notice the doorbell at first. It blended with the background noise, distant, unimportant.

Then it became continuous. Insistent. Urgent.

I was on my feet before I knew it, crossing the room in quick strides, yanking the door open.

Cassian stood there.

Breathing heavily. Disheveled. His jacket was gone, his shirt wrinkled, his hair a mess. His eyes were wide, frantic, his breathing still uneven.

I stilled.

His face twisted in pain. Raw, unguarded, devastating, and he spoke words that sent ice through my veins.

“It’s Naija.”

Chapter 29

Terror.

That’s what I felt when I saw Cassian’s face and heard the words.

My body seized. A full-body freeze, muscles locked, brain scrambling to process.

Then I moved.

I didn’t change clothes. Didn’t grab my keys. Didn’t turn around for anything. I just moved—out the door, down the hall, my bare feet slapping against the floor before I even realized I hadn’t put on shoes.

The details came in fragments during the drive.

A fire.

The word still didn’t feel real. Couldn’t settle in my brain.

Grease fire. Oil overheated on one of the stoves, flames climbing faster than the suppression system could trigger. By the time the alarms fully activated, smoke had already overwhelmed the ventilation hood, spilling out beneath it and finding every opening, filling every space.

Most made it out. Cassian’s staff handled the evacuation well. Drills, protocols, all the things you practice but never think you’ll need. The exits cleared fast. Firefighters arrived within minutes.

Dozens stumbled out coughing, eyes streaming, grateful for air.

But two never made it to the door on their own.

A staff member at the back of the restaurant.

And Naija.

My chest tightened at the thought. Tightened until I couldn’t breathe.