Page 87 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

It fit perfectly.

I stared at it, that flash of green that once mirrored her happiest gaze now just a reminder of everything I’d lost.

A sound tore from my throat, harsh and strangled, escaping before I could force it back. I doubled over, one hand catching the edge of the mattress while the other pressed hard against my chest. I dragged in a breath, but it broke halfway in. My lungs burned. My ribs heaved uselessly, fighting for air that wouldn’t come. I tried to hold myself together, tried to silence the broken noises clawing their way out of me, but another sob ripped through my chest and folded me in on myself.

I stumbled to the bed and collapsed onto her side, gripping fistfuls of the sheets as though I could somehow hold on to the last trace of her. I buried my face in her pillow, and the first full sob ripped through me with enough force to make my entire body jerk. I dragged in a ragged breath, only for another sob to follow, then another, until I could barely breathe between them.

I cried until my chest ached and my eyes burned, until the sobs dwindled into broken breaths and there was nothing left for my body to give. I lay there with my fist still tangled in her sheets, staring at nothing, too drained to move. The pain hadn’t eased. It had simply hollowed me out, leaving an emptiness so deep I could feel its weight in every part of me.

I was mourning the most beautiful thing I had ever been given.

Her love.

She had placed it in my hands and trusted me to keep it safe, but I had taken that trust and destroyed it piece by piece with those same two hands.

Feeling weightless and empty, I dragged her pillow into my arms and crushed it against my chest. My fingers dug into the cotton until they ached. I buried my face in it and breathed her in until my lungs burned, desperate to fill myself with whatever trace of her remained.

The scent brought her back with such painful clarity that I could almost feel her beside me. It clung to the fabric, faint but unmistakable, carrying the warmth of mornings spent beside her, the soft trace of her skin, the familiar fragrance that lingered in whatever room she had just left.

It will fade, a cold, logical part of my mind whispered. This, too, will be gone soon.

The thought tore through the numbness, sending panic surging through me. I shook my head hard and crushed the pillow against my chest, burying my face in her fading scent. I breathed her in, trying to hold on to every trace of her, to carve the memory into my bones before time could take that from me too.

And then, when my mind could take no more, it gave me a sanctuary. A moment from before the fall, vivid and warm, from when I was still the man who deserved her.

“You can come now,” I called out, the blankets warmed and waiting. She slipped in from the balcony, a smile playing on her lips as she climbed into bed.

“You ready?” she asked, arching a brow.

I took a deep, dramatic breath and nodded. “Do your worst.”

Her legs found mine under the blanket, and a shock of cold hit me. I held out my hands, and she placed her icy ones in mine.

I rubbed her hands between mine, working warmth back into her chilled skin. “We were both on the same balcony. How are you always this cold, and I’m not?”

She leaned back against the pillows, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe I’m a ghost.”

I brought her hands up to my neck, letting her cool palms rest against my warm skin as I hovered over her. I pressed a soft kiss to the hollow of her throat. “Ah, then I’m honored that you chose me to haunt.”

Her giggle was the most beautiful sound I had ever known.

My kisses traveled from her neck to her jaw, and finally to her face, planting a constellation of them across her skin before I leaned back to look into her eyes. “So,” I asked, “what Mr. Fitzherbert story do you have for me today?”

Her eyes widened with humor and excitement. “You won’t believe what that cat did this time.”

I rested my forehead against her neck, content. “Try me.”

Her hand found my hair, her fingers gently stroking through it. “He stole the neighbour’s shoes.”

I leaned back to look into her eyes. “From inside their house?”

She nodded, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Yes.”

I frowned. “How did he manage that?”

“No idea,” she said, shaking her head. “All I know is that Felicity came home from work to find her neighbour shouting in the hallway, searching for his limited edition sneakers. When she entered her apartment, she found them right there in the middle of her living room.”

I could feel her feet finally warming up against mine. “What did she do then?” I asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.