The Woman I Don't Remember

Chapter Four — Fractured Memories

The penthouse felt impossibly still after the encounter on the balcony. The city lights below flickered like distant stars, but the warmth this place should’ve had—the sense of safety I thought it would offer—was gone.

Eva sat at the edge of the sofa, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her gaze fixed on something far beyond the walls, far beyond the city itself, as though she could see what I still couldn’t. I stood by the glass wall, staring at the skyline, my pulse thundering in my ears. Every instinct told me danger had brushed past us… and yet, beneath that panic, something softer whispered inside me—quiet, steady, impossible to ignore:

I know her. I know this.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. No. It couldn’t be. My memories were wiped clean. Everything before the accident was an empty slate—just shadows and scattered fragments I couldn’t piece together no matter how hard I reached for them.

“She won’t stop,” Eva said suddenly, breaking through the thick silence. Her voice trembled, but underneath it was steel—unyielding, fierce—that tightened something in my chest. “Your mother… your family… someone out there. They want this erased. Us erased.”

I swallowed, my throat dry. “Why me?” My voice came out rough, thin. “Why now? Why are they—”

A soft chime cut me off.

My phone.

Another message.

Another unknown number.

He belongs to no one. Not even her.

My stomach dropped. It wasn’t just a threat. It felt too personal, too precise—like they knew exactly where to aim. Exactly what would shake me.

My fingers went numb, and the phone slipped from my hand, clattering onto the marble floor. Eva’s eyes followed the sound. She exhaled shakily.

“They’re not bluffing,” she murmured. “And it’s not just your family. Someone else is involved. Someone who’s been waiting.”

I turned toward her, frustration, fear, and confusion twisting like knots inside my chest. “Waiting for what? For me to remember? Forget? What do they want?”

Her gaze softened. The steel melted away for a moment, revealing the woman who had been there the moment I opened my eyes in the hospital. Tender. Desperate. Familiar.

“For you to remember,” she whispered. “Not just who you are now… but who you were. The life we shared. The love we had. Before everything ended. Before the accident.”

Her words cut straight through me.

I wanted to pull away, to reject it, to cling to the blankness in my mind because at least that emptiness felt safe. Predictable. But something in her eyes held me in place—something deep, haunting, and painfully familiar.

“What do you mean… before it all ended?” My voice barely rose above a whisper.

Eva hesitated, and I could see the weight of everything she carried pressing down on her. “I can’t tell you everything yet. Not all at once. It’s too dangerous. But the memories… they always find a way back. Slowly. In pieces.”

“Pieces of what?” I asked, my chest tightening. “I don’t understand.”

She moved closer, lowering herself beside me until her knees brushed mine. The contact sent a jolt through me I couldn’t explain. “You don’t have to,” she murmured. “Not yet. Just… trust the fragments when they come. Trust me.”

I wanted to trust her. God, I did. But there was a storm in me—fear, anger, confusion, something darker I couldn’t name. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. But every instinct in me—every pull, every ache, every unspoken familiarity—kept me right there beside her.

And then it happened.

A flicker.

A spark in the back of my mind—quick, bright, gone in an instant. Sand. Sunlight. Her lips brushing mine. Her laugh. A beach I didn’t recognize but somehow knew.

My breath caught. My fingers trembled.

Eva’s hand slipped into mine, grounding me. “You feel it?” she whispered.

I nodded, breathless. The vision returned—clearer this time. Her hand gripping mine in a white wedding dress. My voice calling her name. Then flames. Screaming. Pain. Losing her—

I gasped and stumbled back against the sofa, chest tightening. “I… I can’t—”

“Yes,” Eva said gently but firmly. “You can. And you will. They’re pieces of your life breaking through. They’re real. They’re yours. I just want you to remember what we were. What we had.”

I pressed my palms against my temples, as though I could push the chaos back, but the memories clung to me, refusing to fade. My mind scrambled to make sense of the flashes, the emotions, the suffocating déjà vu.

A sudden knock at the door jolted me out of the vision.

My pulse exploded. “Not again.”

Eva’s eyes darkened. “It’s them,” she whispered. “I can feel it.”

The doorknob rattled violently this time—whoever stood on the other side wasn’t waiting for permission.

“Stay behind me,” Eva ordered. She moved forward with a precision that shocked me—not panicked, not frantic, but trained. Controlled. Ready to protect me at all costs.

Something inside me twisted painfully at the sight.

A shadow appeared outside the balcony glass again—tall, silent, deliberate. Watching.

Waiting.

I wanted to flee. Wanted to escape this nightmare. But something stronger anchored me right where I was—something tied to her, something primal and terrifyingly familiar.

“Who are they?” I breathed.

“They’re from the past,” she said quietly. “The life we lived… and the life we were meant to have. They want it gone. Permanently.”

My heart lurched. “Erased… permanently?”

Eva nodded, jaw tight. “If they succeed, you’ll forget me completely. You’ll lose everything—again.”

A cold shiver rolled through me. Her words struck something deep, something buried, something real.

My phone buzzed again.

Unknown number:

You’ve been warned. She’s a liar. Don’t trust her.

I dropped it, pulse spiraling out of control. Danger screamed at me from every direction. But stronger than the fear… was the pull toward her. The sense that leaving her would destroy something inside me I didn’t even understand.

Eva grabbed my hand, holding tight. “We can’t hide anymore,” she whispered. “We face this. Together.”

My thoughts spun, my pulse thundered, but for the first time, something felt clear: I couldn’t walk away from her.

Because even in the confusion, the fear, the broken memories crashing through me… I felt something I couldn’t explain.

And then—just as I stepped toward the balcony—

A shadow moved.

Fast.

Glass shattered.

And a cold, metallic voice sliced through the air:

“Adrian Cole… you shouldn’t have come back.”