Fragments

1

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, the edges fogged by steam from my morning shower. The face that looks back at me is serene, calm—perfectly composed, just as I had trained it to be on mornings such as this. My eyes, a shade of blue lined by dark purple circles now covered in concealer, reveal nothing of the dreams that had disturbed my sleep last night.

In the reflection, Elias's form appears behind me, his hands resting gently on my shoulders as he leans forward and kisses my cheek. "Another dream?" he asks softly. There's concern in his tone, subtle but genuine, as though he's reading the slight crease in my brow.

I nod, feeling the warmth of his hands seep into my skin. "Just fragments," I reply, keeping my eyes on my reflection rather than meeting his gaze. "Nothing to worry about."

Elias sighs, a quiet sound that speaks of understanding rather than dismissal. He presses a kiss to my temple, lingering there for a heartbeat before stepping away. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I know," I say, offering him a small smile in the mirror. He returns it with one of his own, a gesture that's immediately comforting. It's the kind of smile that wraps around me like a blanket, steadying me when the ground shifts beneath me, which has been nearly every night as of late.

"Breakfast will be ready soon," he reminds me before leaving to go to the kitchen. I know this, of course since it was nearly 7:00, and we always had our first meal at 7:00.

Our mornings follow a very strict pattern—one carefully constructed by the Ministry for optimal productivity and emotional stability. Breakfast is already prepared when I enter the kitchen. The protein supplements and nutrient-dense shakes are designed to meet our daily needs precisely, ensuring that our bodies and minds function at peak efficiency. Elias moves around the kitchen in a dance he'd rehearsed every morning, setting the table, measuring our nutrients, and pouring our drinks. I watch him for a moment, taking in the fluidity of his movements. He's always like this, precise and calm, each action purposeful.

We eat in silence as usual, but it isn't uncomfortable. Elias glances at me occasionally, offering soft smiles and observant eyes, always attuned to me. He makes sure my glass is full, that my meal is complete, that everything is just as it should be. Our life together is one of balance, a life where words are often unnecessary.

"You know," Elias begins, breaking the quiet with his even tone, "the Ministry's offering enhanced dream therapy sessions now. For people like you—those who occasionally experience residual memories from the cleansing."

Residual memories. The term settles heavily between us. My grip tightens slightly around my glass, the memory of last night's dream flickering in the back of my mind. "It's just... a part of me," I reply slowly. "The fragments aren't harmful. They're meaningless dreams."

Elias watches me, his gaze unwavering. "You know I have to ask," he says gently.

"I know," I reply, taking a sip of my shake. "But I barely remember them anyway."

"Are you sure?" There's no accusation in his voice, just the weight of his role pressing down on the conversation. Elias is part of the Surveillance Division, the group responsible for identifying and obtaining reports for citizens exhibiting signs of memory fractures. It's his job to maintain the integrity of the collective mind. Fragments threaten that integrity.

I know what this means. Know what his responsibilities entail. It's a part of our life together, a thread that weaves into every aspect of our lives whether I'd like it to or not. "I'm sure it's just my imagination," I assure him.

Elias nods, his expression open and patient. "I trust you, Lena. But it's important that you trust me, too. Sometimes the mind can deceive us. I just want to keep you safe."