Shadows of Affection (GxG)

Chapter 50: Echoes of the Past

Alessia sat alone in the grand bedroom that once felt like her sanctuary. The walls, painted a muted gray, seemed to close in on her as the emptiness in her chest grew heavier. She had everything—she was surrounded by friends, family, and an unwavering fiancée—but nothing felt complete.

Something was missing.

She traced her fingers absently over the blanket draped across her legs, her eyes fixed on the soft afternoon light filtering through the window. The warmth on her skin should have been comforting, but it only amplified the cold void inside her.

The worst part wasn't the amnesia—it wasn't even the fear of not remembering who she was. It was the look in Lily's eyes every time they were in the same room.

Sadness.

Lily carried it like a heavy veil, woven so tightly into her being that Alessia could feel its weight from across the room. Lily tried to hide it, behind small, forced smiles and steady hands shuffling paperwork, but Alessia saw it. The sadness lingered in the faint quiver of her lips when she thought no one was watching, in the way her shoulders sagged just a little more each day, and in her eyes, dull with sleepless exhaustion.

It hurt to see.

And yet, Alessia felt helpless. Every time she thought about approaching Lily, about saying something—anything—to ease her pain, doubt crept in. What if she made it worse? What if her presence only reminded Lily of what she'd lost, of the Alessia she no longer remembered how to be?

The guilt was suffocating.

She deserves better, Alessia thought bitterly, her fists tightening in the blanket. She deserves someone who can love her the way she needs, not... this.

A knock at the door startled her.

"Alessia? Can I come in?"

It was Lily.

Alessia swallowed the lump in her throat and cleared her voice. "Yeah, come in."

Lily stepped in, holding a small tray with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as though she were carrying the weight of the world.

"I thought you might want something warm," Lily said, her voice soft.

Alessia nodded, unable to meet her gaze. "Thanks."

Lily set the tray down on the bedside table and lingered for a moment, her hands resting on the edge. Alessia felt her presence like a tangible force, the air between them thick with unspoken words.

"Are you feeling okay today?" Lily asked, breaking the silence.

Alessia hesitated, unsure how to answer. "I... I guess. It's just..." She stopped, struggling to put her feelings into words.

Lily didn't press her, but the concern in her eyes was unmistakable.

"I just wish I could remember," Alessia admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I'm... I don't know, broken."

Lily's breath hitched, but she quickly masked it with a small smile. "You're not broken, Alessia. You're still you."

But the words sounded hollow, even to Alessia.

As Lily turned to leave, Alessia felt a pang of guilt so sharp it was almost physical. She wanted to reach out, to grab Lily's hand and pull her close, to tell her she wasn't alone in this. But the fear held her back.

When the door clicked shut, Alessia let out a shaky breath.

Her thoughts spiraled as she stared at the untouched tea on the tray. How long could Lily keep this up? The weight she carried seemed unbearable, and Alessia knew she was only adding to it. Every day that passed, every conversation that ended in silence, every moment Alessia failed to give Lily what she needed—it was like another crack forming in the fragile bond between them.