Page 190 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

So she wouldn’t feel like I left her alone. So she wouldn’t be mad at me.

So she wouldn’t… wouldn’t want to leave me too.

“I mean, who cares about a stupid jinx?” The words tumbled out, bitter and broken. “I shouldn’t have left. I stayed away and disaster still happened, so what was the point? I should have just stayed. At least then maybe I would have been in that bathroom with her. Maybe I could have—I don’t know—but it would have been better than this. Better than sitting at home like an idiot while she was—”

My words cut off.

The air left me in a rush.

Everything stopped.

Because Cassian had pulled me into his arms.

He didn’t ask. Didn’t warn. Didn’t give me time to prepare or pull away or build another wall.

He just moved.

His arms came around me and pulled me into him, tight and sure, like if he didn’t hold on hard enough, I might slip through his fingers and disappear into the night.

My head landed against his chest, my cheek pressed to the fabric of his shirt, and underneath it I could hear it.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

His heartbeat. Real, alive and here.

He rested his cheek against mine, his skin warm against my own. His lips brushed my ear as he whispered.

“Do you know what I felt when everything went down?” His voice was raw, cracked open. “When there was chaos and everyone was running and screaming?” A shaky breath escaped him, warm against my skin. “All I felt was relief.”

I went still in his arms.

“I was relieved that you weren’t there.” His voice cracked. “That you had already left. That you were safe somewhere, away from the fire, away from the smoke, away from everything. I was relieved. Even though two people were trapped. Even though Naija—” He stopped, a shudder running through him. “I was still relieved that you weren’t there. And I still am.”

His hands tightened around me, desperate, clinging.

“Selfish, aren’t I?”

I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

“Focus on that, Alessia.” His voice was urgent now, pleading. “Focus on how selfish I am. Keep your focus on me. Curse me. Call me names. Tell me I only think about myself. Tell me I don’t care about anyone else.” His grip tightened. “But please. Please don’t say that you should have been in that room. Don’t say that. I am selfish enough to ask that of you. I am selfish enough to beg.”

My eyes burned. My breathing quickened, shallow and uneven.

He pulled me back just enough to see my face. His hands cupped my cheeks, gentle and trembling, forcing me to look at him. I blinked through the blur of tears, and there he was—his face twisted with pain, his own eyes shining.

“She’s okay.” He wiped a tear from my face. Another followed immediately. He wiped that one too. “She’s okay, Alessia. She’s alive. She’s breathing. She’s going to be fine.”

He kept wiping. It was useless, every tear he caught, another fell, but he kept trying. Kept stroking his thumbs across my cheeks, catching what he could, refusing to stop.

“You don’t need to do anything right now.” His voice was the only solid thing in a spinning world. “You don’t need to fix anything. You don’t need to plan or work or make anything right. You just need to go to her. Sit beside her. Hold her hand. Talk to her.” A wet, broken smile touched his lips. “Maybe bitch about me. Tell her I’m annoying. Tell her I followed you around like a lost puppy. She’ll like that.”

His eyes held mine, filled with tears of his own. “That’s it. That’s all she wants from you. That’s all she needs. Just you, being there. That’s enough. You’re enough.”

My eyes stayed on his, but I wasn’t seeing him anymore. I was seeing Naija. Alone in that bathroom.

“She must have been so scared.” The words came out a whisper, barely there.

His breath stuttered. His tears fell faster now, sliding down his cheeks in quick, unbroken streams, dripping from his jaw onto the pavement between us.