I can see you

Chapter 9

(ROSY'S POV)

I didn't know what I expected when I went back to the orphanage, but it wasn't him. The building was half-boarded, windows clouded with dust, the sign hanging crooked like it was tired of pretending to be something it wasn't. But when I knocked-softly, not sure why I was even bothering-a voice called out from inside.

"Give me a second."

He opened the door like he already knew me. Tall, calm, too young to be part of the staff I vaguely remembered. His sweatshirt hung loose, sleeves pushed up to the elbows. He had a notebook in his hand. No name tag. No clipboard. Just a quiet smile.

He had that kind of face that was easy to forget in a crowd-soft features, downturned eyes, the kind of calm that looked earned, not faked. Not handsome in the way Edward was. Edward was all sharp lines and shadow, the kind of beauty that demanded attention. Kian was quieter and softer. The kind of man you'd pass on the street and feel strangely comforted by, only to realize later you couldn't remember his face.

He had warm hazel eyes, the kind that shifted in the light-gold one moment, green the next. Not because they sparkled, but because they watched. Closely and patiently. Like he already knew what I was going to say.

His hair was dark brown, a little too long, curling over his forehead like he forgot it was there. His sweater was oversized, beige or maybe gray, sleeves pushed up just enough to show long, veiny hands. Not strong hands but precise ones.

His face was slim, almost delicate, but there was tension in his jaw that didn't match the softness of his voice. A painter's mouth, I thought absently. Or maybe a liar's.

He smiled like someone taught him how to. Like it was a trick he could turn on or off depending on what he needed from you.

Most people would've described him as safe but something about him made me want to lean closer-and pull away all at once. But then again that's how I feel about everyone.

"You're... Rosy, right?" He asked. His voice sounded puzzled yet carried a note of cheerfulness.

My throat dried. "Yeah. How do you-?"

"I used to live here too," he said. "You probably don't remember. It's been years."

I didn't remember him but something in his voice made me hesitate. His tone was gentle and kind of Familiar, even though I'd never seen him before.

"I'm Kian." He said stepping aside to let me in. I followed.

Inside, the building looked even more abandoned. Cracks in the ceiling, faint mold blooming near the corners. But the hallway smelled like bleach-someone was still keeping it clean.

"I come by sometimes," he explained, as if reading my mind. "To keep the place from falling apart. Feels like the least I can do."

"You said you knew me," I said slowly, not wanting to lose my grip. "From before?"

He nodded, but didn't push. Instead, he led me to a small office. It had a warped desk and a cracked window. On the desk sat a dusty shoebox. He pulled off the lid and took out a faded photograph.

"Here," he said, handing it to me. "Do you remember this?"

I looked down and my heart jumped.

Four girls. All around my age and all dressed in gray uniforms. The girl standing at the middle had half of her face covered in hair, but from what I could see-she looked exactly like me.

"I-I don't..."

"That's Riya," Kian said softly, pointing to the photograph. "Your sister."

I almost laughed. A sharp, too-loud sound I had to bite back. That name again. It followed me like smoke. But this time, hearing it out loud, spoken by someone else-it didn't sound haunting. It sounded impossible.

"I don't have a sister," I said. More to myself than to him. Like maybe if I said it enough, it would overwrite whatever was starting to unravel inside me.

Kian didn't flinch. He just sat down across from me, folding his hands in that too-calm way of his. His voice was gentle. Careful.

"what do you mean you don't?"

"They said I was found alone. That I fell from a tree when I was sixteen and hit my head which caused me to loose my memories.They told me I'd been here since I was a baby."

" That's what they told you?" He asked his eyes lingering on mine. " I left the orphanage before that ..you must be around fourteen or sixteen at that time."
He gave a small sigh, reached into the folder beside him, and pulled out another photo and this one felt worse. Two girls. Same dark hair. Same wide eyes. One smiling like the world was brand new. The other quieter, reserved. Like she didn't trust it.

"You weren't alone, Rosy," Kian said. "I remember. You and Riya-you were inseparable. But different. You didn't talk much back then. You kept waking up screaming. But her?" He tapped the girl with the gentler eyes. "She was your opposite. Bright, kind and sweet to everyone."

My vision blurred slightly.

"Do you really not remember?" he asked, almost a whisper now.

The silence between us stretched so tight I thought it might snap. I stared at the photo, the edges digging into my fingers. I wanted to scream. I wanted to burn it but instead, all I could say was-

"I feel dizzy.I don't remember any of that," I whispered.

"Trauma does that," he said. "Sometimes it protects us by taking pieces away." His voice was too soft like he'd said that line before. Rehearsed it.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked.

He looked surprised. Then he smiled, small and sad. "Because I remember how it felt. Being left here. Being lied to. I guess I always wondered what happened to her-Riya. You always said you were made just to protect her. That your and her were one being."

"But I'm not her," I said.

He met my gaze. "Aren't you?"

The room went silent. I took the photos and left without another word. But before I left he tore a pice of paper from his note book and scribbled his phone number in it. Then pressed it into my hand. And asked me for mine.

That night, I spread the pictures across my bed. The girl in the picture looked like me but not exactly. Her smile was too calm. Her eyes too kind. If that was Riya, then why the hell don't I remember her? What happened to her? What actually happened to me?

I texted Edward. I didn't expect a reply. I just needed to see the name lit up on my screen. To feel like he was still part of my life. No response. Again. I told myself it was fine. That I didn't need him anymore. But I checked my phone every hour anyway.

---

The next day, Kian texted me instead. "Hey. You doing okay?"

I didn't reply but he sent another.
"I found more records. You might want to see them."