CHAPTER FIVE
643 Words
Amelia did not sleep.
The glow of her laptop illuminated the small college room, casting pale shadows across the walls. Outside, Oxford lay silent beneath the weight of night, its ancient towers standing like guardians of secrets too old to name.
She stared again at the university newsletter.
There was no mistake.
Amelia Hart. Edward Sinclair. Oxford Scholars.
The photograph beneath the headline showed two students standing side by side on the steps of a college she recognised instantly.
Her breath caught.
The girl in the photograph was undeniably her — younger, brighter, her smile unguarded. Beside her stood Edward, his expression far less restrained than the man she had met days earlier. There was warmth in his eyes then. Familiarity.
Intimacy.
Amelia closed the laptop.
Her heart raced.
How could she have forgotten an entire year of her life?
The next morning, she went in search of answers.
The university archives were housed in a quiet wing of an old building where even footsteps seemed to hesitate before entering. Dust danced in narrow beams of sunlight as she approached the front desk.
“Good morning,” she said politely. “I was hoping to access student records from five years ago.”
The archivist, a thin woman with spectacles perched precariously on her nose, regarded her with mild curiosity.
“Those records are restricted,” she said. “May I ask your reason?”
Amelia hesitated.
“Personal research.”
The woman studied her for a moment, then sighed. “I can show you what is publicly available. Nothing more.”
It was enough.
Minutes later, Amelia sat before a computer terminal, her fingers trembling as she typed her name.
The screen flickered.
Then the results appeared.
Her academic profile was there — enrolment, departmental affiliation, even a residential college.
But one detail froze her blood.
Status: Withdrawn — Exceptional Circumstances.
No explanation.
No notes.
Just silence.
She found Edward that afternoon.
He was seated alone in the courtyard, reading a book, his posture calm, almost detached. Autumn leaves drifted lazily across the stone ground, brushing against his shoes.
“Edward,” she said.
He looked up, surprised.
“You seem determined today,” he observed lightly.
“I found something,” she replied.
He closed his book slowly.
She sat opposite him, the distance between them suddenly feeling far too small.
“Did you know me before?” she asked.
Edward did not answer immediately.
His gaze shifted briefly away, then returned to hers.
“Yes,” he said at last.
The word landed like a stone.
Amelia felt her chest tighten.
“You knew me,” she repeated. “And you didn’t say anything.”
“I wasn’t certain how much you remembered,” he replied quietly.
Her voice trembled. “So it’s true. I was here before.”
“Yes.”
“And we…?” she began, then stopped.
Edward’s silence was answer enough.
“We worked together,” he said carefully. “On a research project. We spent a great deal of time together.”
“That’s all?”
His eyes darkened slightly.
“No,” he admitted.
The wind shifted, carrying the distant sound of bells across the courtyard.
Amelia felt as though the ground beneath her feet had begun to crack.
“Why did I leave Oxford?” she asked.
Edward looked at her for a long moment.
“You made a promise,” he said.
“A promise?” she echoed.
“Yes,” he said softly. “And breaking it nearly destroyed you.”
Her breath faltered.
“What promise?”
Edward hesitated.
Then he spoke.
“You promised you would never come back.”
Amelia stared at him, her mind spinning.
Never come back.
Yet here she was.
And whatever she had forgotten was clearly far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.
- Writer
