Charles
I grab her hand tighter, relief still rushing through me, but she flinches.
Then slowly, she pulls her hand out of mine.
The movement is weak, almost fragile, but it feels like someone just drove a blade straight into my chest.
She looks at me again, really looks this time. Her brows knit together, eyes filled with confusion instead of recognition.
“Who… are you?” she whispers again.
My heart drops.
No, no, no.
I stare at her, waiting for something to change. Waiting for her to blink and laugh and tell me she’s joking. Waiting for the warmth to come back into her eyes.
It doesn’t.
All I see is a stranger looking back at me.
My chest tightens painfully. I shake my head slowly.
“Molly… it’s me,” I say roughly. “It’s Charles.”
She doesn’t react.
Just pure confusion and
