Chapter Ten– Memories

“Elena’s POV”

Saturday sunlight spilled across my living room, too bright for my mood. Boxes were stacked like uneven towers, reminders of a life I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep.

I knelt beside the bottom drawer of my old cabinet and tugged it open. A faint scent of paper and dust rose as I sifted through envelopes and postcards. Then—photos.

High school snapshots. College parties. Familiar faces grinning back at me.

And Michael.

I froze.

A stack of glossy prints slid into my lap: me and Michael at the aquarium, another at the campus fair, a few from winter evenings with city lights behind us.

I exhaled sharply. “Great. Memory lane.”

The aquarium photo caught me first. We stood near a huge tank, blue light washing over our younger selves. Michael’s arm curled around my shoulders. I remembered that day—how he’d kept checking his watch.

Flashback – Aquarium

“Isn’t it amazing?” I’d pressed my face close to the glass, watching the slow sweep of a manta ray.

Michael stood a few feet back, thumbs on his phone. “Sure,” he said. “Kinda smells like fish.”

I turned, laughing a little. “It’s an aquarium. Of course it smells like fish.”

He pocketed his phone with a shrug. “We could’ve gone to a movie instead.”

“But look at them,” I’d insisted, pointing at a school of neon fish darting like living jewels. “It’s beautiful.”

He’d given me a quick smile and a perfunctory squeeze of my shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Beautiful.”

---

Back in the present, I traced a finger along the photo’s edge and let out a slow breath. Was I happy that day? Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to be.

Next came a picture from the amusement park of me with a lopsided cotton-candy grin, him frowning at the camera..

“This is childish,” Michael had muttered as we stood in line for the Ferris wheel.

I nudged him playfully. “That’s the point. It’s fun.”

“Fun is dinner at a nice place, not…this.”

I tilted my head, teasing. “Scared of heights?”

“No,” he’d said too quickly, eyes flicking up at the wheel. “Just…why waste a Saturday?”

I remember laughing, tugging his sleeve until he finally stepped into the carriage with me. At the top, the city lights had stretched forever. I’d leaned into him, hoping he’d see what I saw.

He’d only said, “Cold up here,” and checked his watch again.

The memory dissolved, leaving a quiet ache. I stared at the old photos for a long moment, then dropped them into a paper bag marked Recycle.

“Good riddance,” I murmured.

I leaned back against the couch, letting silence settle. And then—unbidden—another memory crept in.

Not Michael.

Adrian.

Two nights ago. That kiss.

Heat bloomed in my cheeks so quickly I buried my face in my palms.

“Stop,” I whispered to the empty room.

But I couldn’t. The way his breath had warmed the air between us. The press of his mouth—steady, deliberate—as if he’d been waiting all night for that single moment. It wasn’t like Michael’s hurried kisses in parked cars. This had felt…different. Alive.

My phone buzzed, jolting me back.

A text. From the last person I wanted to see.

> Tomorrow we will talk at the company.

Michael.

I stared at the words, pulse spiking with irritation.

“Perfect,” I muttered. “We’ll talk. And I’ll end it. Finally.”

I dropped the phone facedown on the couch and grabbed the recycle bag, shoving it into the hallway bin with a satisfying thud.

Across the City – Blackwood Estate

A different kind of quiet filled the Blackwood mansion: the hush of filtered air and soft beeping monitors.

An elderly woman lay in a grand four-poster bed, her silver hair fanned across crisp white pillows. Tubes and a gentle drip of IV fluid framed her like fragile jewelry.

Adrian stood at the foot of the bed, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes, usually cool steel, softened as they rested on her peaceful face.

A doctor stepped in, checking the monitors. “Mr. Blackwood,” he said, voice low. “She regained consciousness early this morning. Spoke with the nurses for a few minutes, then slipped back to rest.”

Adrian’s gaze didn’t leave the woman. “Will she wake again soon?”

“She’s stable, sir. But with her condition…we take each hour as it comes.”

A pause stretched. The faint hum of the machines was the only sound.

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Nothing must happen to her,” he said, each word deliberate.

The doctor nodded quickly. “Of course. We will take the utmost care.”

He hesitated, then added, “Sir…before she drifted off, she asked a question.”

Adrian finally turned his head. “What question?”

“She wondered if you had brought a young mistress for the Blackwood family,” the doctor said carefully.

For the first time that day, a quiet huff of laughter escaped Adrian. “Even in sleep she plans my marriage.”

The doctor offered a tentative smile. “It seems to comfort her.”

Adrian shook his head with a dry chuckle. “She will never stop, will she?”

“No, sir.”

He stepped closer to the bed, brushing a hand lightly across the blanket near her fingers. “Rest easy, Grandmother. I hear you.”

Then, with a final glance at the monitors, he turned toward the door. “Call me if there is any change.”

“Of course, Mr. Blackwood.”

The door closed softly behind him, leaving only the rhythmic beep of the machines and the steady breath of a woman who still dreamed of weddings.