The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, washing the room in a gentle gold. Aiden stirred, the blanket tangled around his legs, and blinked against the brightness. The fog in his head had lifted slightly overnight, leaving only a dull, lingering ache in his temples. His memory was still fractured, pieces floating out of reach, but the edges felt less like jagged glass today and more like a puzzle waiting to be solved.
Kairo was already at the small table near the window, stirring a mug of tea. The steam curled upward, carrying the faint aroma of chamomile, a smell that made something flicker in Aiden's chest. He watched Kairo's careful movements, the way he methodically arranged the notebooks and pens, the subtle crease at the corner of his eyes when he concentrated.
"Morning," Kairo said softly, glancing at him. "You slept okay?"
Aiden rubbed his eyes, trying to chase away the remnants of dream and confusion. "I… I think so," he muttered. "It feels… a little clearer than yesterday." He paused, then hesitated, his gaze dropping to the notebook lying open beside Kairo. "I… I even remembered a little last night. A fragment."
Kairo's lips curved faintly. "Good. That's progress. Do you want to tell me what it was?"
Aiden chewed his lip, frowning. "I don't… fully understand it. It's just a feeling, really. Warmth… and fear. And someone calling my name… but I can't remember who." His voice wavered. "I can't even tell if it was real or just a dream."
Kairo moved closer, his eyes soft but steady. "It was real," he said. "And it's okay that you can't fully recall yet. Feeling it is the first step. The memory will follow."
Aiden blinked, holding back the tears threatening to fall. "I want to remember everything. I want to know… all of it."
"And you will," Kairo said, his voice firm yet gentle. "Step by step. We'll find it together."
For a moment, Aiden let himself be comforted, letting Kairo's presence anchor him. He had no idea why it felt so easy to trust him, so natural, and yet there it was — a tether to something he couldn't name.
After a while, Kairo suggested they do something simple. "Let's make breakfast," he said. "Something normal. You don't have to think about the past right now."
Aiden hesitated, the fear of unknown memories tugging at him. "I… I don't know if I can. What if I remember something… bad?"
Kairo reached out, brushing a hand across Aiden's shoulder. "Then we face it together. You won't be alone."
The touch was gentle, grounding. Aiden felt a warmth spreading through him, despite the lingering anxiety. Slowly, he rose from the bed, moving toward the small kitchenette.
As they worked together, preparing eggs and toast, small moments of connection unfolded. Kairo handed him a knife to chop vegetables, their fingers brushing briefly. Aiden's heart skipped, a flutter of recognition he couldn't explain. He pulled back slightly, embarrassed, and Kairo just smiled faintly, unbothered.
"You've done this before," Kairo remarked lightly, chopping with practiced precision. "I can tell by the way you hold the knife. Don't worry, it's okay to not remember everything — your instincts remember for you."
Aiden's brow furrowed. "It feels… familiar. But not familiar. Like I should know how to do this, but I don't."
Kairo nodded, understanding. "That's normal. Your memory is hiding the pieces for now. But your mind remembers enough to keep you grounded. That's a good sign."
Midway through breakfast, a sudden flash of memory struck Aiden. It was a smell — cinnamon, baked bread, faint and comforting. His chest tightened, and he froze mid-step, eyes widening.
"What is it?" Kairo asked immediately, concern threading his tone.
Aiden shook his head. "I… I don't know. It's just… a feeling. Warmth, and… fear. And someone laughing. I think… someone laughing at me, or with me… I can't tell."
Kairo leaned closer, placing a hand gently on Aiden's back. "It's okay. You're safe. You're here, with me. Just let it come slowly. Don't force it."
Aiden closed his eyes, letting the memory fragment wash over him. It was hazy, incomplete, but it carried a weight he couldn't ignore. His hands clenched the edge of the counter, knuckles white.
"I don't understand…" he whispered. "Why does it feel so real, and yet I can't place it?"
"Because it matters," Kairo said softly. "It always matters. The memories that hit hardest are the ones that shape you, that matter to you the most. That's why they're buried — but they'll come back."
Aiden looked at Kairo, searching his face for answers, but all he saw was patience and care, unwavering. For the first time, he felt a flicker of hope — fragile and tentative, but there.
Later, Kairo suggested they go outside for a short walk. "Fresh air can help. And maybe you'll see something that sparks more memories."
Aiden hesitated, fear and curiosity battling in his chest. "What if I see something I… shouldn't?"
Kairo's hand brushed against his, just a light touch along his wrist. "Then we face it together. No matter what comes back, you won't face it alone."
The walk was slow, almost painstaking. Each step brought small, sensory triggers: the smell of wet earth after rain, the distant laughter of children, the sound of birds. Each one pulled at a fragment, a feeling — sometimes warmth, sometimes unease.
Aiden stumbled slightly, and Kairo's hand shot out instinctively to steady him. Their eyes met for a long moment. Aiden's pulse raced. There was something unspoken in that touch, something beyond words, but it didn't scare him. It grounded him.
Returning to the room, Aiden collapsed onto the bed, exhausted but strangely lighter. He clutched the notebook Kairo had given him, flipping through the pages with renewed attention. Sketches, notes, dates, little reminders — each one a breadcrumb leading back to a life he couldn't fully remember.
A faint smile tugged at his lips when he saw one: "Don't forget our promise."
"Promise," he whispered, tracing the word with a finger. A shiver ran down his spine. Something deep inside recognized it — not the exact meaning, not yet, but the weight of it, the significance, the bond.
Kairo knelt beside the bed, brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead. "We'll get there," he said softly. "Piece by piece, memory by memory. I promise."
Aiden let himself lean slightly into Kairo's hand, letting the warmth anchor him. The world was still uncertain, still fragmented, but for the first time in a long while, he felt a thread of hope. Somewhere in the shadows of his past, the pieces were waiting. And this time, he wasn't alone to find them.