Avery's life takes a dramatic turn after a tragic incident leaves her with amnesia. Determined to reclaim her lost memories and rediscover herself, she embarks on a challenging journey. Supported by her loving friends and family, she must summon the...
As the miles rolled by beneath the car's tires, my mind replayed the events on the tower rooftop in a loop. Awe battled with a dull ache in my chest. Witnessing Avery grapple with her fragmented memories was both fascinating and heartbreaking. Yet, through the wonder, a persistent pang echoed – she seemed to possess no recollection of me in those glimpses of her past. So close, yet impossibly distant.
Did she harbor some unspoken resentment towards me before the incident? The thought gnawed at me, a bitter seed sprouting uncertainty in the fertile ground of our nascent connection. As we neared the entrance, I concocted a flimsy excuse about parking – the truth being, I desperately craved solitude to wrestle with the storm of emotions brewing within.
Under the pretense of finding a spot, I watched them from afar. As they entered, I steered the car away, seeking refuge in a secluded corner. There, I could finally grapple with the tangled mess of frustration and a flicker of something darker – resentment. The weight of it threatened to swallow me whole, demanding to be understood.
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Avery POV
Perched atop the Temple Garden, the panoramic vista of the town unfolded before me. As I absorbed the scene, a question bubbled up, a sliver of a memory yearning for completion. "Brylle," I began, my voice hesitant, "do you recall if... if there was someone I am with before the incident?"
A flicker of concern crossed his features. "You were in love," he confirmed gently. "The day you turned eighteen, you both confessed your feelings for each other. What I learned later, though," he continued, his voice low, "was that your affection for him had blossomed much earlier. Even as children, you held a reserved nature, bottling things up inside. You never burdened anyone, not even with... what your mother did when your father wasn't around."
He paused, his gaze flickering with a shadowed memory. "Remembering that two years ago," he murmured, "was one of the most difficult episodes you've endured. The shock, the pain... we all feared for you. You kept repeating that you didn't deserve love, that you weren't worthy of care."
A pang of sympathy echoed within me. Witnessing the toll his concern took on him stirred a strange protectiveness. "It must have been so hard," I offered softly, "to see me relive that loss years after it happened. Like a delayed mourning, a wound reopened."
"Exactly," he breathed, relief flickering in his eyes at my understanding. "As your friend, I don't want you to relive that pain. Let's focus on creating new memories, ones untainted by the past."
Frustration gnawed at me. The memory, incomplete and frustratingly blurry, demanded a name. "Do you remember his name?" I pressed, impatience lacing my voice.
Brylle shook his head, his jaw clenching. "No, Avery. And frankly, the act of remembering him shouldn't be forced. It should come in its own time, if at all. In all honesty, I harbor resentment towards him."
