The veil of hearts

•You belong to my world•

A/N: Listen to the music above.

17
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Aina's POV

I sit there, lost in my sorrow and confusion, the heavy snowfall blanketing me in white. My tears freeze on my cheeks, and I wonder if I'll become just another snow-covered statue in this city of forgotten memories.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps crunching through the snow, approaching me. I don't look up, too drained to care who might be passing by. But then, the snowfall ceases its assault on me. I blink, realizing someone has placed an umbrella over my huddled form.

Slowly, I raise my head. A man is kneeling beside me, his face level with mine. He's holding the umbrella, shielding me from the relentless snow. Our eyes meet, and I feel... something. A jolt of recognition that makes no sense, a warmth that contradicts the freezing air around us.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft with concern. There's something in his tone, a familiarity that tugs at the edges of my fractured mind.

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. Instead, a sob escapes me, raw and filled with all the confusion and pain I've been carrying.

The man's eyes widen, filled with an emotion I can't quite place. Is it concern? Pain? Longing? Why does it feel like he knows me?

"I... I don't know," I finally manage to whisper. "I don't know if I'm alright. I don't know anything anymore."

He reaches out, hesitates, then gently brushes a snowflake from my cheek. The touch sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the cold.

"You look like you could use a warm drink," he says. "There's a café just around the corner. Would you like to get out of this snow?"

I stare at him, this stranger who doesn't feel like a stranger at all. Why is he being so kind? Why does his presence both comfort and confuse me?

"Who are you?" I ask, my voice barely audible over the wind.

A flicker of... something... crosses his face. Pain? Resignation? "Just someone who doesn't like to see people suffering in the cold," he replies, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

I should be wary. I'm alone in a foreign city, and this man is a stranger. But something deep inside me, some instinct I don't understand, tells me I can trust him.

Slowly, I nod. "Okay," I whisper. "A warm drink sounds nice."

He stands, offering me his hand. As I take it, letting him pull me to my feet, another wave of déjà vu washes over me. His hand in mine feels right, like it belongs there. But why?

As we start walking, huddled together under his umbrella, I sneak glances at him. There's something so achingly familiar about his profile, the way he walks, the sound of his breathing. It's like a word on the tip of my tongue, a memory just out of reach.

"I'm Aina," I say suddenly, surprising myself.

He looks at me, and for a moment, I see a deep sadness in his eyes. But it's gone so quickly I wonder if I imagined it. "It's nice to meet you, Aina," he says softly.

As we make our way through the snowy streets, I'm filled with a strange mix of comfort and unease. Who is this man? Why does being near him feel like coming home and stepping into the unknown all at once?

I don't have the answers. But as we walk side by side, his umbrella sheltering us both from the falling snow, I feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this mysterious stranger holds the key to unlocking my past.

And so I follow him into the snowy night, towards a warmth I don't understand but desperately need.

///

Felix's POV

I've been following her at a distance all evening, my heart breaking with every step she takes. Watching Aina wander through Helsinki, lost in a flood of memories she can't fully grasp, has been torture. But nothing could have prepared me for this moment.

She's sitting in the heavy snowfall, her small form hunched over, shaking with sobs. Every instinct in me screams to run to her, to wrap her in my arms and tell her everything will be okay. But I can't. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to interfere.

But seeing her like this... I can't stand by any longer.

My feet move of their own accord, crunching through the snow towards her. My hands tremble as I open my umbrella, holding it over her huddled form. Slowly, carefully, I kneel beside her, bringing myself to her level.

She raises her head, and our eyes meet. God, how I've missed those eyes. They're red-rimmed and filled with confusion, but they're still the same eyes I've loved for so long. I see a flicker of something in them - recognition, perhaps? - and for a moment, hope flares in my chest.

"Are you alright?" I ask, fighting to keep my voice steady, to not betray the storm of emotions raging inside me.

She opens her mouth, but instead of words, a heart-wrenching sob escapes her. It takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to pull her into my arms right then and there.

"I... I don't know," she finally whispers, her voice small and lost. "I don't know if I'm alright. I don't know anything anymore."

My heart shatters anew. I reach out, wanting desperately to comfort her, but I stop myself. Instead, I gently brush a snowflake from her cheek, savoring this small touch, knowing it might be all I get.

"You look like you could use a warm drink," I say, grasping for any excuse to stay with her, to make sure she's okay. "There's a café just around the corner. Would you like to get out of this snow?"

She stares at me, and I can see the conflict in her eyes. Does some part of her recognize me? Does she feel our connection, even if she can't remember it?

"Who are you?" she asks, her voice barely audible.

The question is like a knife to my heart. Who am I? I'm the man who loves you, Aina. The man who would move heaven and earth for you. The man who's been dying inside every day we've been apart.

But I can't say any of that. Instead, I force a sad smile. "Just someone who doesn't like to see people suffering in the cold," I reply, the half-truth bitter on my tongue.

To my relief, she nods, accepting my offer. As I help her to her feet, her hand in mine sends a jolt through me. How many times have we held hands like this? How many walks have we taken through these very streets?

"I'm Aina," she says suddenly, and it takes every ounce of control not to respond with, "I know. I've always known you, Aina."

Instead, I look at her, allowing myself a moment to drink in her face. "It's nice to meet you, Aina," I say softly, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth.

As we walk towards the café, huddled under my umbrella, I steal glances at her. She looks so lost, so confused. All I want to do is tell her everything, to help her remember. But I can't. It's not safe. Not yet.

So I walk beside her, this woman I love more than life itself, pretending to be a stranger. Each step is agony and bliss - agony because she doesn't know me, bliss because at least I'm with her again.

I don't know what will happen next. I don't know if she'll ever remember me, remember us. But for now, I'll be whatever she needs me to be - even if that's just a kind stranger with an umbrella.

Because no matter what, I'll always be there for Aina. Always.

AUTHOR's NOTE

Do tell me how you all felt.