River

"Where am I?"

Ayla opened her eyes just as I was turning on the space heater. The autumn air this morning had a sharp bite to it, even after the sun came up. I’d gotten up around six to tidy up my rented studio a bit and make it more comfortable for her. Everything I asked Travis to bring was neatly arranged on the small table—hangover meds, bagels, and warm toast with butter. The size 4 dress he brought was folded neatly over a chair.

"You’re at my place. You were wasted last night at the club," I said, turning around to face her.

Her expression instantly shifted panic. Her eyes scanned the room, landing on the clothes she clearly didn’t recognize, then dropped to her lap, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. I walked over and handed her a glass of water, spiked lightly with Aerex.

“Drink this. You’re probably dehydrated and hungry. Eat something.”

She took the glass slowly. “Who changed my clothes?”

“I did,” I answered honestly. “You threw up all over your dress when you were semi-conscious. Luckily, not on the bed.”

Ayla stayed quiet, staring down even further. She was clearly embarrassed. I didn’t want to make it worse, so I gave her some space and went to take a shower.

By the time I came out in a hoodie and joggers, my phone was blowing up with notifications from Travis. One of them was a full background check on Ayla Monroe.

Ayla Monroe. My childhood friend. The girl who once saved my scared little ass when I was a shy kid with a thick Japanese accent. I’d spent the last two years trying to find her—and I finally did. Right here, on this campus.

At first, I wasn’t sure she was the same Ayla. But then I saw the faint surgical scar on her stomach—the one from her appendicitis surgery when we were in elementary school. I remember that day so clearly. She even wrote me a letter before going into the operating room.

We were close. She gave me courage after that incident on the bridge. She was my first love. I wanted to show her the man I’d become—the strong, brave guy I am now.

“River?”

I turned quickly. She stood in the doorway wearing my oversized tee and joggers rolled up to her knees. It looked kinda weird, but also cute as hell.

“What’s up?”

“Did you keep my phone?”

“It got run over when we took the Uber. Totally crushed.”

I handed her a plastic bag with what was left of her phone—bent and almost shattered. Her face went pale. I offered her mine. “You can use mine if you need to.”

She took it and started typing quickly. From where I stood, I could hear her calling someone—Yuna, her best friend, if I remembered right.

“Yeah... I’m okay. I’m at a friend’s apartment. I... I’ll explain later. Can you pick me up? I’ll send you the location.”

When she hung up, she looked at me with that questioning gaze.

“I... I don’t really remember much from last night. Can you tell me what happened? Did I do anything stupid?”

I nodded slowly, trying to keep my voice calm. “I was at the club too. You came in alone with your friend. You looked tense—like you just had a fight with someone. You sat at the bar and started drinking. A lot. I watched from afar, then came over when you started looking really out of it. You passed out. I got you out of there before anyone else tried anything.”

I didn’t mention the part where we kissed. That felt... complicated. The timing didn’t feel right. I wasn’t gonna be the guy who pressured her into remembering something she wasn’t ready for. That moment will come—when she’s ready.

“You just happened to be at that club?” she asked, skeptical.

“Was just trying to catch my jackass friend who had the key to this place.”

I wasn’t about to tell her I’d been following her. Not yet.

She went quiet again, glancing at the breakfast on the table. “Thank you, River. You really didn’t have to do all this.”

I sat across from her. “Why’d you drink that much?”

She let out a sigh. “My cousin, Rhett. He’s... super protective. Like, over-the-top. He told me I couldn’t be anywhere near you. Not even as friends. I got frustrated. So I drank.”

That name hit me hard. Rhett. Travis had mentioned him during his research. We’d actually met yesterday and had a bit of a tense exchange, but I kept cool. I already knew his dominant, controlling personality.

“I felt weird. But... when I talked to you... I don’t know, I felt kinda safe. Like I knew you from somewhere.”

That hit me straight in the chest. If she only knew how clearly I remembered every second of our childhood together...

Why was I the only one who remembered?

I forced a smile. “Maybe we did meet before.”

She gave a small nod, then bit into her toast. “I’ve never been drunk before.”

“And don’t do it again,” I shot back—too fast.

She stared at me with those big eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I cleared my throat. “I mean... you’re not the kind of person who needs to get wasted to deal with stuff. There are better ways.”

She kept looking at me, then cracked a small smile. “Alright, Mr. Wise Guy.”

Before I could respond, the doorbell rang. Ayla stood up quickly, clearly anxious. “That must be Yuna.”

I got up too and handed her the clothes Travis brought. “Here. So you’ll be more comfortable heading home.”

She took them, then paused at the door. “Thanks. Again.”

She hesitated in the doorway.

“River…” she said softly. “I’m glad you were there last night. I don’t know what would've happened if it wasn't you.”

“I’ll always be there if you need me,” I replied without thinking.

She gave me a small smile—then walked out.

The door closed, but her scent still lingered in the air. I walked over to the table and opened the digital file Travis sent me. Full details on Ayla Monroe. Birth date, medical records... and one detail stood out.

Medical report from 2015: Mild head trauma. Possible effect: long-term memory loss.

So... she really did forget me.

My phone buzzed. Dad. He was probably calling to guilt-trip me into coming to Thanksgiving. Even though he’s fully Japanese, he never skipped an American tradition just because of Mom.

“I’ll be there for the family thing, don’t worry, Dad,” I said quickly, cutting him off before he could start his usual speech.

I put the phone down—just as a knock came at the door. Travis.

“Handled everything, River,” he said, walking in. “How long do you want this place rented for?”

“One semester. We’re staying.”

Travis raised an eyebrow. “So... she really is the Ayla Monroe?”

I looked toward the door, my mind drifting to the letters she wrote me as a kid. To old scars. To memories that still haunted me.

“She’s the girl you’ve been searching for all this time? The one you...”

He paused. “...love?”

I looked at him. Silent. Not answering.