The veil of hearts

•leaving something behind•

21
||•••~~~~•••~~~~•••||

Joshua's POV

As we prepare to leave the hospital for the last time, I can't help but notice Aina's distracted demeanor. She lingers in the corridor, her eyes roaming over every detail as if trying to commit it all to memory. It's more than just a student saying goodbye to a place of learning; there's an intensity to her gaze that makes me wonder what she's really seeing.

"Aina?" I call softly, not wanting to startle her. "It's time to go. Everyone's waiting."

She turns to me, and for a moment, I see a flash of something in her eyes - longing? Confusion? - before she nods and joins the group.

As we exit the hospital and the students begin to disperse, chattering excitedly about their return journey, Aina approaches me. There's an urgency in her movements that catches my attention.

"Sir," she says, her voice tight with an emotion I can't quite place, "is it okay if I go to that café for a while? I'm done with packing."

I study her face, noting the slight flush in her cheeks, the way her fingers fidget with the strap of her bag. Everything about her screams that this is more than just a casual desire for coffee.

"Of course," I reply, trying to keep my tone neutral. "Just make sure you're back in time for our departure."

The words have barely left my mouth before Aina is moving, almost running towards the direction of the café. I watch her go, her figure quickly disappearing around a corner, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something crucial.

Why that café? What is it about that place that draws her so desperately? I recall the day I found her there, how comfortable she seemed, how the owner treated her with a familiarity that seemed out of place for a first-time visitor.

I'm tempted to follow her, to unravel this mystery that seems to grow with each passing day. But I hold back, respecting her need for privacy, even as my curiosity and concern gnaw at me.

As I turn to oversee the rest of the students' preparations, my mind races with questions. What is Aina's connection to this city? To that café? And why does she seem so reluctant to leave?

I make a mental note to keep a closer eye on Aina during our journey home. Whatever is happening with her, whatever memories or connections she's grappling with, I have a feeling it's only the beginning of a much larger mystery.

And as her professor, as someone who cares deeply for her well-being, I'm determined to help her uncover the truth - no matter where it might lead us.

////

Joshua's POV

The tension in my shoulders eases slightly as I spot Aina hurrying towards our gate, a small package clutched in her hands. Her cheeks are flushed, whether from the cold or exertion, I'm not sure.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," she says breathlessly as she reaches our group. Her eyes find mine, and I feel that now-familiar jolt in my chest.

"We were worried," I say, relief evident in my voice.

She holds up the package, a tired but genuine smile on her face. "I just had to get this. It's lemon cake, from that café near the hospital."

I nod, remembering her frequent visits to that place. There's something about her expression, a mixture of nostalgia and confusion, that tugs at my heart.

"Well, you're here now," I say, trying to keep my tone light. "Let's get you checked in."

As we move towards the counter, I notice Aina's gaze drifting towards the large windows overlooking the runways. There's a longing in her eyes that I can't quite decipher.

After check-in, as the group starts to move towards our gate, Aina suddenly stops.

"Professor Joshua," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can I... can I just take one last look? From the observation deck?"

I hesitate, aware of our time constraints, but the plea in her eyes makes it impossible to refuse. "Alright, but we need to be quick."

We step into the elevator, and as it ascends, I watch Aina's reflection in the mirrored walls. Her eyes are closed, her fingers tracing patterns on the package of lemon cake, as if trying to commit every detail to memory.

The doors open, and Aina moves as if in a trance towards the windows. She stands there, her forehead pressed against the glass, eyes closed. The sight of her, so vulnerable and lost in thought, makes my heart ache.

"Aina," I call softly, not wanting to startle her.

She turns, and the look in her eyes nearly breaks my heart. There's confusion there, yes, but also a profound sadness, a longing for something just out of reach.

"Professor," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, I just... I needed to see this one more time."

I approach her slowly, fighting the urge to pull her into an embrace. "It's okay," I say gently. "But we need to go now. Our flight..."

She nods, but her eyes drift back to the window. "I feel like I'm leaving something behind," she murmurs. "But I don't know what."

In that moment, looking at Aina's lost expression, I'm struck by the depth of her connection to this place, a connection she herself doesn't fully understand. Her memory loss, the fragments of recollection that Finland has triggered – it all seems to converge in this moment of farewell.

"Aina," I say softly, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever it is, whatever memories are trying to surface, we'll figure it out together. I promise."

She turns to me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank you," she whispers, clutching the lemon cake closer to her chest.

As we make our way back to the elevator, I can't help but wonder about the mysteries surrounding Aina. What has she forgotten? What is she leaving behind in Helsinki? And how can I help her uncover these lost pieces of herself?

One thing is certain – our journey, both literal and metaphorical, is far from over. It's only just beginning.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

That's all for now.

Do let me know your opinions.