Cole pov
I lay on my bed, still half in my suit, tie loosened and jacket abandoned somewhere on the floor, staring at the ceiling without any real intention of sleeping.
The gala replayed behind my eyes whether I wanted it to or not, the terrace, the city lights, Kayla's voice quiet and careful beside me.
‘I thought forgetting would be easier.’
‘It wasn't.’
I closed my eyes instead of fighting it, and the memories came anyway, uninvited, arriving in fragments rather than any coherent order.
Eight-year-old Kayla, laughing too loud at something I'd said, racing me on bicycles down my aunt's street, always starting early, always insisting it wasn't cheating. Blue popsicles melting too fast in summer heat. Her hand gripped mine as I tried, badly, to teach her to skate, both of us falling
