Before He Forgot Me

EPISODE FOUR: A GLITCH IN THE SILENCE

AMELIA

The next morning, I stood in front of my locker for way too long, staring at a book I didn’t even need for the first period.

I had slept barely three hours. Every time I closed my eyes, Noah’s face flashed behind them—blank, unfamiliar, distant.

It wasn’t just the way he didn’t remember me.

It was the way he looked at me like I had never meant anything at all.

“Still stuck in Sad Girl mode?” Lena’s voice cut through my thoughts, startling me. She leaned against the locker beside mine, arms folded.

I gave her a tired smile. “Trying to upgrade to Emotionally Numb mode.”

She rolled her eyes. “You need a distraction. A hot distraction. Should we find you a rebound?”

I chuckled weakly. “He’s not even my ex.”

She wiggled her brows. “Yet you’re heartbroken. Sounds like an emotional situationship to me.”

Before I could respond, a voice behind me sent a chill down my spine.

“Is this yours?”

I turned around—and there he was. Noah.

He was holding a sketchbook. My sketchbook. The one I hadn’t even realized was missing.

“I found it in the music room,” he said. “I think I saw you sketching in there yesterday.”

For a second, I just stared. That wasn’t the cold, empty tone he’d used before. This time, his voice was… softer. Curious.

And he noticed me sketching?

I took the book slowly, my fingers brushing his.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He nodded, and for a moment, his eyes lingered on mine. Something flickered there. Confusion. Or recognition?

I couldn’t tell.

Then he blinked, and just like that, the wall went back up.

“See you around,” he mumbled, turning to leave.

But I caught it—just before he walked away, his hand briefly clenched into a fist like he was fighting something inside him.

I stood frozen in place, clutching the sketchbook to my chest.

Lena whistled under her breath. “Girl, did we just witness a glitch in his heartless software?”

I let out a shaky laugh, unsure whether to feel hope or fear.

---

NOAH

She looked so familiar today.

The way she said thank you.

The way her eyes glistened like she’d been waiting for me to remember something.

I don’t know why I picked up that sketchbook. I don’t even remember walking into the music room.

But when I saw her drawings — the sunflower field, the little boy with chocolate on his cheeks, the two kids sitting under the stars — something in my chest tightened.

I don’t know her.

But I want to.

And that scares me more than anything.