Helen stood in the small kitchen, staring at the phone that had buzzed again with another message from someone named Sarah—Hope you're doing well! Miss our coffee dates! Her stomach twisted into knots. She quickly deleted the message and set the phone face down before she could see it, her hands trembling as she poured hot water over the lavender tea she had prepared.

The lies were getting heavier each day. But when she heard her padding softly down the stairs, still fragile, still trusting her completely... she knew she couldn’t let anyone from the old life find her. Not yet.

“Morning, love,” Helen said, offering a gentle smile. “Another headache last night? I heard you tossing and turning. Here—this should help.” She handed over the steaming mug, her fingers lingering against hers. That warmth rushed through her again, the same way it had since college. Only now, she didn’t have to hide it.

Her gaze lingered as she took the first sip, watching every flicker of expression. Sometimes there was only peace, and Helen let herself believe the memories would never return. Sometimes there was confusion, the shadow of something missing, and guilt crashed over her like a wave.

“You know, I was thinking we could go into town today,” she said, forcing steadiness into her voice. “Pick up some supplies for the greenhouse. Mrs. Brooks keeps asking about you—she says we’re so lucky to have found each other.” Helen turned away, wiping down the already spotless counter, anything to avoid those questioning eyes.

The phone buzzed again. Another message. Her chest tightened. She couldn’t keep intercepting them forever. Sooner or later, someone from her real life—their life before her—would come looking.

"You know, I've been thinking about Dr. Martinez's suggestion that you try to reconnect with your past. About visiting the city..." Helen set down the dishrag and turned to face her, her heart hammering against her ribs. "I know he means well. But he doesn’t see what I see. He doesn’t notice how your hand trembles in mine when the world feels too loud, or how your eyes cloud when you reach for memories that aren’t there," she murmured, her voice softer now, almost pleading.

Her hands framed her face gently, but her grip was just a little too tight.

"The city would only overwhelm you, love. Here, you can breathe. Here, you have me. Isn't that what matters?"