The fall

Chapter 51

Blake

I still held Penelope in my arms, my hands trembling as I cradled her against me. The remains of the battlefield was the end of a storm—I sent an emergency call to a few districts, so there were shouts of people around. Some trying to save the injured, but I let none of them touch her.

All of the sounds faded into the background. None of it mattered. Not now. Not with her in my arms, not until she woke up.

Then, a soft intake of breath. A flutter of lashes.

My heart stopped, my grip tightening.

"Penelope," I whispered, my voice cracked, desperate.

She blinked slowly, her gaze flickering as if fighting through the haze of unconsciousness. Then, she looked at me, her brows knitting in confusion. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes traced her face, searching for familiarity in the way she looked at me.

The only thing that has faded was her crimson hair. A lump loged itself in my throat. The fiery red strands that had always shone like embers in the sunlight were no more. Only the softest shadow of new growth dusted her scalp, a fragile sign of what once was.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I forced them down. She was here. That was all that mattered. I pressed my forehead against hers, a shaky breath of relief escaping me.

"You're okay. You're alive," I murmured. "Thank god, you're alive."

Then, she tensed.

I felt the shift before she even moved. A slight stiffening in her body, the hesitant press of her palms against my chest. And then, she pushed. Not with force, but with uncertainty.

I pulled back, my heart hammering as I searched her expression.

She was staring at me.

Something inside me twisted painfully. Her lips parted, her breathing uneven. When she spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Who... Who are you?"

I froze, my grip on her tightening as my mind fought to process what she had just said.

"Penelope," My voice cracked. "It's me. It's Blake."

Her lips trembled, her brows drawing together. "Blake..?" The name sounded foreign on her tongue, as if she was testing it, trying to place it in a puzzle she didn't remember.

My chest caved it.

"You don't remember me?" The words barely made it out, caught in the back of my throat. I could feel my hands shaking as I held hers, desperation clawing at my ribs.

She looked at me with something like guilt, her expression twisting with regret. "I—I don't know. I don't know you, I only know my name. I'm sorry. I want to remember. I really do."

I let out a strangled breath, my entire body trembling. "Penelope, it's me. We fought together, we lived together, we—" my voice broke. "We love each other.."

Her eyes widened slightly, something flickering across her face—fear? Sadness? Recognition? No, not quite.

She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," she whispered again. "I don't remember anything. God, my heart is beating—oh my god, don't cry! I don't want to see you cry. Please, don't cry."

A sharp, broken sound escaped me—half a sob, half a breath. I lifted her hand to my lips, pressing it there as if that alone could bring her memories back.

I hadn't shed a single tear when my father died, this was so much worse.

Tears blurred my vision as I whispered, "It's okay. It's okay, I promise. We'll make new memories together. We'll start again, from the beginning—I'll make you fall inlove with me again, if that's what it takes."

Penelope's gaze searched mine, desperate to find something—anything—to hold onto. Then, after a long moment, she smiled—small, hesitant, but bright.

She nodded. "Okay, I'll try falling inlove with you again."

A shaky exhale broke from me, a breath of relief, of sorrow, of love. Because I was still—so inlove with her. I pulled her close again, and this time, she didn't pull away. She melted into me naturally, her arms were weak but still wrapping around my back, holding on just as tightly.

It was like her conscious remembered how to hold me, but not her.

I love her in a way word will never be enough for. Even though she doesn't remember me—I will always remember that she is my peace, my best friend, my home.

I love Penelope, so much, that it hurts.