Lost and Found In Love

Chapter 10

The photograph of the woman stayed in William's hands long after Clara had left for the night. The image captivated him, not because of the location or the moment frozen in time, but because of the undeniable connection he felt to the woman standing beside him. Her smile was radiant, her eyes bright with happiness. He could see it clearly, even in the faded edges of the picture: this wasn't just anyone. She was important to him.

But who was she?

The question followed him into the restless hours of the night, weaving its way through his thoughts and dreams. He could almost hear her voice—soft, melodic, filled with laughter—but the words were muffled, distant, like they were being carried away by the tide in the photograph. He tossed and turned, each half-formed memory slipping through his fingers as he struggled to hold onto it.

When morning came, William was no closer to an answer. The photograph rested on the table beside him, a stark reminder of the life he was still trying to piece together. He stared at it as the sunlight crept through the blinds, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

The knock at the door was a welcome distraction, and when Clara stepped inside, her presence immediately eased the tension in his chest. She carried her usual clipboard and a bag slung over one shoulder, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Morning," she said, pulling the chair closer to his bed. "Rough night?"

"You could say that," William replied, running a hand through his hair. "I couldn't stop thinking about her. The woman in the photo."

Clara nodded, her gaze shifting to the photograph on the table. "She's clearly important to you," she said. "Have you remembered anything else?"

"Not much," William admitted. "Just flashes—her laughter, the sound of her voice. But it's all so faint. I feel like I'm grasping at straws."

"That's normal," Clara said, her tone gentle. "Memories tied to strong emotions can be the hardest to uncover. But the fact that you're feeling something means you're getting closer."

Clara reached into her bag and pulled out a small recorder. "I thought we could try something different today," she said. "I want you to talk about her. Even if you don't remember much, describing what you feel might help trigger something."

William hesitated, his gaze flickering between Clara and the recorder. "You really think that'll work?"

"It's worth a try," Clara said, her voice encouraging. "Sometimes saying things out loud can make them feel more real."

He nodded slowly, taking the recorder from her. "Okay," he said. "Let's do it."

Clara sat back in her chair, her notebook open on her lap. "Start with the basics," she said. "What do you feel when you look at the photograph?"

William pressed the button on the recorder, the faint click echoing in the quiet room. "I feel... warmth," he said, his voice steady. "Like she brought light into my life. When I look at her smile, it feels like everything was okay, even when it wasn't."

He paused, staring at the photograph. "I think I loved her," he continued. "It's the only thing that makes sense. The way she's holding onto me, the way I'm looking at her—it's not just a casual connection. She mattered to me."

Clara nodded, her pen moving across the page. "Do you remember where the photo was taken?"

"The beach," William said immediately. "I can almost feel the sand under my feet, the sun on my skin. We were happy there. I don't know why, but it feels like a safe place."

"That's a good start," Clara said. "What about her? Do you remember anything about her personality? The way she made you feel?"

William closed his eyes, letting the faint impressions surface. "She was... kind," he said. "But also strong. I think she challenged me, made me want to be better. And she laughed a lot—this soft, musical laugh that made everything else fade away."