It started with a flicker.
A skipped heartbeat as Elara opened her eyes to the gray dawn, rain tapping at the window. She felt the weight of the world pressing down — heavy, unfamiliar.
Something was missing.
She blinked at the ceiling, heart pounding. Beside her on the nightstand: Ciel's sketchbook, open to a drawing of her face.
Her own name — Elara — written in his familiar hand.
For a breath, it meant nothing.
Panic swept over her chest like cold water. She pressed a hand to her racing heart, whispering her name over and over until the syllables felt like hers again.
"Elara. Elara. Elara."
But still, something was gone.
At the riverside bookstore that afternoon, Mara, her bestfriend found her staring at the shelves, unfocused.
"You okay?" Mara asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I… I don't know," Elara whispered. "It's like there's a page missing, and I can't remember what was written on it."
Mara frowned, gentle but firm.
"Maybe it's stress," she said softly. "You've been skipping lunch again, haven't you?"
Elara forced a smile, but it cracked at the edges.
Later, she met Ciel by the fig tree courtyard.
The moment she saw his face, something tugged at her chest — recognition mixed with guilt.
"You're late," Ciel teased gently, but his eyes clouded as he noticed her pale expression. "What happened?"
"I forgot," she whispered, voice shaking. "For a few minutes this morning… I forgot everything. Even you."
Silence wrapped around them, heavy and cold.
"But you remembered again," he said, reaching for her hand.
She nodded, tears threatening.
"What if next time I don't?" she whispered. "What if it lasts longer?"
Ciel's voice cracked.
"Then I'll help you remember," he murmured. "Even if I have to draw your face a thousand more times."
That evening, in his cousin Theo's small print studio, Ciel shared what happened.
Ink and paper scented the air, presses silent for the night.
Theo listened, quiet, brows furrowed.
"You've loved her for so long, Ciel," Theo said gently. "But maybe it's time to ask — is love still love if it asks so much pain from both of you?"
Ciel looked at the sketches lined along the walls — Elara's face repeated in charcoal and ink, tender and haunting.
"It hurts," he whispered. "But forgetting her would hurt more."
Theo nodded, a shadow passing behind his eyes.
"Then fight for it," he said. "Even if it breaks you."
That night, Elara found an old note in her pocket — written by her own hand, though she barely remembered writing it:
If you wake and forget: his name is Ciel. Tuesday. By the fig tree.
She traced the letters until the tears blurred them, willing the memory to stay.
But as she closed her eyes, darkness bloomed at the edges of her mind.
And for the first time, she felt how close the forgetting really was — waiting, patient, like rain gathering at the edge of a roof before it finally falls.