DID I LOVE YOU?
1040 Words
“Who wrote it?” Aurelia barely spoke above a whisper, but the words hung heavily anyway.
She stood across from Draven. The photograph in her hands shook. Five words: Never let her remember. That was all it took—her whole life flipped into a question she couldn’t answer.
Draven looked at the message. His face was a wall again.
“Tell me,” Aurelia pressed.
He kept silent.
“Was it my mother?”
Silence.
“Someone in your family?” She watched his jaw clench.
She moved closer. “Then who?”
“You’re asking questions that don’t have simple answers,” Draven said finally.
“I don’t care,” she shot back, her voice cracking. “I grew up believing I was nothing. Wolfless. Weak. Useless.” She waved the photograph. “And now I find out I had a life with you—a whole life I can’t remember.”
Something softened in Draven’s eyes. Aurelia wanted to smack it out of him. She didn’t need pity. She needed real answers.
“You knew me,” she said. “You knew me before I ever knew you.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my name.”
“Yes.”
“My childhood?”
“Yes.”
“And you knew someone wanted me to forget you.” His gaze slid away.
Her anger burned hotter. “You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s all I can give right now.”
She laughed, sharp and bitter. “Of course.” She turned, but Draven caught her wrist.
She froze, staring at his hand until he let go.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said quietly.
“Then stop hiding everything from me.”
He looked strained, almost desperate. “I am trying to protect you.”
Aurelia rolled her eyes. “Everyone says that.” She locked eyes with him. “Maybe I’m sick of being protected from the truth.”
The silence that settled felt like thunder. Aurelia’s heart hammered in her chest. One question lingered in her mind, the one she’d been avoiding since she picked up that photograph. She breathed in, steadying herself.
“Did I love you?”
Draven went utterly still.
She waited for something—anything. He said nothing.
One second. Another. The silence hurt more than she’d thought possible. Her chest squeezed tight.
“Did I?”
Draven finally dropped his gaze.
“Please,” she whispered.
He looked up at her, and with one word, broke something inside her.
“Yes.”
Aurelia’s heart skipped. She just stared at him.
“I loved you?”
Draven nodded, slow and sad. She glanced at the photograph—the little girl holding his hand, smiling. It made sense now, or it should have. But she couldn’t feel the memory. Loving him felt like a dream someone else had dreamt.
And god, that hurt.
She met his eyes again. “Did you love me?”
No hesitation this time. “I never stopped.”
Aurelia forgot how to breathe. The cold king vanished. For a second, she saw the man beneath—all his pain, everything he carried, right there in his tired, lonely eyes.
“You waited for me?”
He nodded.
“All this time?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Draven’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Because you told me you’d come back.”
Her throat locked up. “I don’t remember saying that.”
“I know.”
She looked away, a strange ache spreading through her chest. She didn’t really know Draven. But some part of her—some deep, hidden part—recognized him. That scared her.
Draven stepped closer. Aurelia stayed rooted. His hand lifted, fingers brushing her cheek—gentle, careful. Her heart raced. She should back away, but she didn’t.
And for one brief moment, she just let herself feel it. Warmth. Safety. Something familiar.
Then reality crashed back in—she was standing in front of a stranger. She stepped back. His hand fell away.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I don’t remember you.”
“I know.”
“Then why does being near you feel…” She stopped, unsure.
Draven held her gaze. “Feel like what?”
Aurelia shook her head. “I don’t know.”
He didn’t look away. “Neither do I.”
They just stood there, not speaking. Eventually, Aurelia turned for the door.
“I need to sleep.”
Draven nodded. “Go.”
She walked out, but looked back before leaving. He was still right there beside the desk, still watching her. And somehow, his look followed her all the way down the hall.
That night, Aurelia dreamed.
She was running through a forest, and she wasn’t alone. Someone ran beside her—a boy. She knew him, couldn’t see his face clearly, but his voice was unmistakable.
“You’re too slow.”
She laughed. “Wait for me!”
He turned. Young Draven. No crowns, no coldness. Just a boy. Her Draven. He reached for her hand, and she took it. They ran together.
The dream shifted. Now they sat beneath the big tree from the photograph. Aurelia laughed. Draven watched her.
“You’ll leave me one day,” he said.
She shook her head. “Never.”
“You promise?”
She smiled. “I promise.”
Everything darkened—fire, blood, pain. Aurelia cried. Draven was on the ground, someone shouting, her mother behind her. She turned to Draven, tears streaming.
Her own voice broke through, scared and shaky. “If I forget you, promise me you won’t come looking.”
Draven reached for her. “Aurelia—”
She screamed, “No!”
The memory shattered.
Aurelia woke up screaming, gasping for breath, her heart banging around inside her.
The room was pitch black. Her hands shook. She pressed one to her chest.
She whispered the only words she could remember.
“If I forget you…”
Her blood ran cold.
Because now, she realized something awful.
She hadn't just forgotten Draven.
She had chosen to forget him.
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