Remember Me Everyday

chapter 2: The Morning Ledger

The next morning, cold sunlight came through the kitchen window.

Clara woke up with her head resting on the kitchen table. Her neck was stiff, and her brain felt heavy and confused. She sat up and immediately grabbed the bright pink notebook she always kept with her.

She opened it. On the first page, she had written: If you wake up at the table, you fell asleep working. Go check the basement.

Clara sighed. She felt a heavy, deep sadness in her chest, but she didn't know why. She wanted to cry, even though nothing bad had happened that she could remember.

She made some coffee and walked down to the archives. When she stepped into the basement, she froze.

The desk was completely clean. All the old letters were sorted into neat folders. Right in the middle was a new leather notebook with a pen on top.

Clara walked over, confused. She hadn't done this. She remembered going down there last night, feeling stressed by all the paperwork, and then... nothing. Just a big blank space in her head.

She opened the leather notebook. The handwriting was beautiful and neat, definitely not hers.

Good morning, Clara, it read.

My name is Julian. I am the assistant hired to help you with your family history. We worked together last night from 9 PM to 2 AM. We fixed the 1880s files. You told me about your grandmother Eleanor who loved poems. You drink your coffee with oat milk and no sugar. We are a team. Don't be afraid. Look at your pink notebook; I asked you to write a note to prove this.

Clara quickly flipped the pages of her pink notebook. At the very bottom, she saw her own messy handwriting: Julian is real. He is helping me. Trust him. When he is around, my head stops hurting.

Clara stared at her own words. Her heart sank. She had completely forgotten him. Her sickness was getting worse, much faster than the doctors said. She sat down in her chair, covered her face, and just started crying. She was losing her mind, and she couldn't stop it.

In the dark corner of the basement, hidden behind the tall bookshelves, Julian watched her.

Hearing her cry tore him apart. He wanted to run to her, hold her, and tell her she wasn't crazy. He wanted to tell her that he was the monster who stole her night. But how could he say that? How could he tell her he eats memories?

Julian leaned against the cold wall and closed his eyes. He could still taste her memory. It was sweet, full of her smart thoughts and the warmth of her lips. It was the best thing he had ever felt, but it felt like poison because he had hurt her to get it.

He waited until she wiped her tears and went back upstairs for more coffee.

Only then did Julian come out of the dark. He looked at the neat piles of paper. He had stayed up all night fixing them just so she wouldn't be confused when she woke up.

At exactly 9:00 PM that night, Julian knocked on her front door.

When Clara opened it, she looked at him with big, nervous eyes. She held her pink notebook against her chest like a shield. She looked at his dark coat, his dark eyes, and then down at her notebook.

"Julian?" she asked softly.

"Good evening, Clara," Julian said with a gentle smile. He kept his hands in his pockets so she wouldn't feel threatened. "I brought the labels I promised in the note."

Clara stared at him, trying hard to remember his face. Nothing came. He was a total stranger. But as she stood near him, that amazing peace came back. The loud, confusing noise in her brain stopped. Her shoulders relaxed.

Her heart remembered him, even if her brain didn't.

"Come inside," Clara said gently, stepping back. "Let's get to work."

As Julian walked into the house, he made a promise to himself. He would help her finish her book. He would keep her safe. But he would never touch her again. He would be a ghost—a man she learned to trust every morning, and forgot every single night.