I can see you

Chapter 21

(ROSY'S POV)

Edward was changing. He still didn't say it, of course. Not out loud. But I felt it in the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention. In the way his touch lingered after we kissed. The way his breath caught sometimes when I laughed, it was quiet and surprised, like he wasn't used to feeling something soft.

He didn't love easily. Maybe he didn't know how but lately, it felt like he was starting to and that terrified me because I was changing, too.

The house didn't feel unfamiliar but that was the problem. I'd never been here before, not really. And yet sometimes, I'd walk into a room and know exactly where things were, like I was retracing steps someone else had taken. The way Edward folded his shirts, the exact way he lined the knives in the drawer, even how the floor creaked in the hallway when the heat clicked on it all felt like echoes.

Not of this house but of someone. Someone I couldn't quite remember.

The guest room was the worst. I hadn't gone back in since the first night, but every time I passed it, my chest tightened. My throat dried and my fingertips itched like they were about to touch something they'd touched before.

I don't know why. I've never been in that room before but it felt like some part of me had. Something happened in that room but if I'd been there, I didn't remember it.

The mirror in the hallway became a kind of obsession for me. It was cracked-just a thin line through the corner-but it changed the reflection just enough to make me pause. I'd sit in front of it at night with the hallway light off, watching myself shift in the glass. Sometimes, my eyes looked too dark and sometimes, I'd blink when my reflection didn't.

I whispered to her once,"Who are you?"

She didn't answer but I didn't expect her to either.

I hadn't told Edward about the flashes. They were not full memories. Just... impressions. A red hallway. A burning smell. A child's voice screaming for help. The name Roy sitting on the tip of my tongue like it had always been there.

I didn't know who he was. I wasn't sure I wanted to.

Killian told me once that Riya had a friend. Riya my sister. Just Like me but more fragile and quiet. The kind of girl who disappeared too easily.

Maybe Roy had been that friend. Maybe he was just another ghost from the orphanage that disappeared with her too. Or atleast that's what I had thought until it happened during one night.

Edward's arms were wrapped around me and his fingers caressing me face, slow and careful, his eyes half-lidded in the dark. I felt safe with him, not the safety of locked doors or alarm systems, but something quieter and familiar like I'd known this touch once, long before this.

I closed my eyes and whispered it without thinking-
"Roy."

The word landed in the dark like a knife. He froze. His body locked. The shift was instant, unmistakable. My heart stopped and I pulled back, my hands shaking. "Edward?"

He didn't answer. His eyes were open. Blank, not angry, not confused. They were just still like he wasn't here anymore.

"Who's Roy?" I asked, barely above a whisper.

He said nothing but it was unmistakable that he knew that name.

"Why did you react like that?" I pressed, a shake creeping into my voice. "Do you know him?"

He blinked once. Slowly. That was all.

"You should get some sleep," he said.

And it wasn't what he said. It was how he said it. Like a verdict, like a door closing. I lay beside him afterward, but I didn't sleep. I didn't move.

I stared at the ceiling and wondered what kind of name can do that to a man like Edward and what kind of girl says it without knowing why.

Later, I sat alone in the hallway again, the mirror was cold in front of me. I didn't cry. I didn't move. I just stared and my reflection stared back. She didn't look like me. Not exactly. Her mouth was tighter, her eyes older and maybe more sadder.

I leaned forward, my breath fogging the glass.

"Who is Roy?" I whispered. "Was he yours or mine?"

Edward didn't bring it up the next morning. He made tea and toast. Like nothing happened. But he looked at me longer than usual and said less. When I asked if he was okay, he just kissed my forehead.

Soft. Too soft. Like an apology in advance.

---

Once I found a pair of ballet slippers in the guest room drawer. They were old and stained. One was scorched near the heel, like it had been too close to a fire. I held them in my lap for ten minutes without realizing I was crying. They weren't mine. I didn't dance. But I knew how they'd feel on my feet. The shape. The stretch of the fabric. The ache in the toes.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand, staring at them. Then came the thought I couldn't ignore-

Why are these here? I hadn't brought them. Edward shouldn't have something like this, should he? And they were kept here in a way that didn't feel like an accident. No, it felt like I was supposed to discover them. But why?

I stood slowly, shoes still in my hands, suddenly aware of how heavy they felt. Like they weren't just shoes. Like they were evidence. My breath came short. I almost asked him but I didn't because I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer. First Roy then this. I stalked him for four years but do I really know anything about him at all ?

Later, while Edward was in the shower, I passed his phone on the counter. It lit up with a message. There was no contact name. Just a number.

Still watching. She's close. Don't rush.

My breath caught. The phrasing was familiar. It reminded me of someone but I shook it off. Probably just some work thing. Or someone from his past. Or maybe...

I didn't finish the thought. I didn't look further but when he came out, his hair still wet, he smiled at me and there was something else behind it. A pause in his eyes like he knew I'd seen the message.

Or worse like he wanted me to and suddenly I couldn't tell who was watching who anymore.

I stepped back slowly, the tile cold under my feet, and left the room before Edward could say something.

We didn't speak much that night.

I laid my head on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart. It was steady, constant and familiar. And yet I felt like I was somewhere else or maybe someone else.

Before bed, I looked in the mirror one last time. I said nothing but I watched. And I knew the girl in the mirror was watching back.

I thought about calling Killian that night.
Just to ask if he remembered more about Riya's past, our past. He always spoke like he knew things no one else did. Names, feelings and Shadows from before I lost my memories but lately, even his certainty made me feel uneasy. Like maybe he hadn't just been helping me remember.

Maybe he'd been helping shape what I remembered.