Cursed To Love You

Chapter 5: Memories and Market Trips

One morning, instead of her usual tray of Bribes, Amaris handed me a small, tarnished pendant. It was simple, silver, with an intricate design that felt oddly familiar in my hand. I stared at it, my pulse quickening, though I didn’t know why. It had weight—not just physically, but… emotionally? Which was ridiculous because I’d never seen this thing before in my life.

“What’s this?” I asked sharply, tossing it between my fingers like it meant nothing, though something in my chest tugged at the sight of it.

She just smiled, that irritatingly knowing smile that made me want to strangle her—and not just because she kept coming back from the dead. “I thought you might like it. You’ve always liked this pendant. Well, in one of your lives, anyway.”

I scowled, setting it back on the table. “You’re delusional,” I muttered, more to convince myself than her. That tug in my chest was stubborn, refusing to let go.

“Maybe,” she said, shrugging with that maddeningly casual air she always had, as if nothing ever rattled her. “But you didn’t throw it away.”

I looked down at my hand, still half-closed around the pendant, and cursed internally. There was something just out of reach—a memory, maybe? A feeling? But it was hazy, like trying to catch a reflection in fog. I dropped it on the table, hoping the thud would shake it from my thoughts.

A piece of parchment appeared, drifting out of thin air. Grim’s handwriting scrawled across it: "You’ve definitely thrown better tantrums than that, Ren."

I rolled my eyes, flicking the note aside. Grim’s impeccable timing never failed to get under my skin. “Shut it, Grim,” I muttered, glancing back at Amaris. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t even glance at the note, unfazed, as though such ghostly commentary was commonplace.

Amaris tilted her head, watching me like I was the punchline to some cosmic joke. “I can’t make you remember. But you can’t outrun who you are forever, Ren.”

“Who I am?” I scoffed. “I don’t even know you. And I certainly don’t know this—this life you keep talking about. Stop leaving these sentimental trinkets around like a romantic ghost.”

She gave me that same steady smile, unbothered. “If you say so,” she replied, cheerfully. “But I’m pretty sure that flower you loved will show up next.”

And, of course, it did. The next day, she laid a single violet on the table beside the pendant I hadn’t managed to throw out. I stared at it, trying to brush aside the feeling it stirred—a feeling of… something. Familiarity, maybe. Longing. I picked it up, inhaling its faint, familiar scent.

I almost felt something. I didn’t like that.

So, with a snap of my fingers, I summoned a small flame to dance across my fingertips and held it to the violet until it blackened and crumbled into ashes. I dropped what remained on the table, brushing my hands as if ridding myself of dust.

Another note appeared mid-air. “Was burning it absolutely necessary?” Grim’s handwriting teased. “Could’ve just put it back down, you know.”

I sighed. “It’s a flower, Grim. I don’t need her theatrics.”

Amaris raised an eyebrow at my reaction but said nothing, watching the remnants of the flower’s ashes settle. “You’ve always been stubborn,” she remarked. “But you’ll remember eventually.”

I rolled my eyes and shot another flicker of flame toward her. She didn’t even flinch as it engulfed her, vanishing in a puff of smoke. She’d be back. She always came back.

And the worst part? I couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid pendant or that damned violet. I could feel them, like half-remembered dreams, stubbornly clinging to the edges of my mind, taunting me. It was infuriating. Maddening. Every time I tried to ignore it, that tug only grew stronger, like a whisper I could never quite hear.

The next morning, she returned as always, carrying another violet and wearing that insufferable smirk.

“You’re getting creative,” she teased, glancing at the scorch marks on the floor. “I’ll give you that.”

I glared at her. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Amaris.”

“Am I?” She grinned, calm as ever. “Or are you just upset because, deep down, you remember?”

“I remember nothing,” I snapped. “Because there’s nothing to remember. You’re not some long-lost lover or—whatever story you’re trying to sell me.”

She just laughed, as if my anger was a joke she’d heard a thousand times before. “Oh, Ren. You’ll figure it out. But until then…” She stepped closer, a mischievous light in her eyes. “How about we stop with the murder for today? Come with me to the market tomorrow. It’ll be fun, and who knows? You might even have fun.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words faded. I hated to admit it, but she had a point. Curiosity was gnawing at me, no matter how I tried to fight it.

“Heaven forbid you get some fresh air, my friend,” Grim’s next note teased, barely out of my line of sight.

“Fine,” I muttered to her at last, crossing my arms. “But don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

Amaris grinned like she’d just won some grand victory. “Wouldn’t dream of it, grumpy sorcerer. I’ll see you at the gates tomorrow morning.”

And with that, she turned and strode toward the castle doors, the sunlight spilling over her like a halo. I watched her leave, for the first time, her confidence unshakeable, her presence steady.

That was the first time I’d ever let her walk away alive, and a part of me hoped it wouldn't be the last.

⭐
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