People said I died that night.
They were wrong. I remember too much for that to be true.
I remember the heat first. Not the flames—just the way the air felt heavy, like breathing was suddenly something you had to fight for. Then the noise came in… shouting, things breaking, footsteps everywhere. It should've felt chaotic, but for some reason, everything slowed down for me.
And in the middle of all that, I saw him.
Ronan.
I've gone over that moment more times than I can count, trying to change it, trying to convince myself I got it wrong—but I didn't. Out of everything that could've blurred over time, that's the one thing that stayed clear.
He was there.
After that, I don't remember deciding to leave. I just did. There wasn't anything left to stay for anyway.
Three years later, I'm standing in a room full of people who have no idea who I am.
Or who I used to be.
The music is loud enough to cover conversations, glasses clink every few seconds, and everyone looks like they belong here. Like this is normal for them. Maybe it is.
I don't belong here.
But that's kind of the point.
I spot him without even trying. Same as before he doesn't stand out in an obvious way, but somehow your eyes still find him. He's talking to someone, calm as ever, like the past didn't happen or just didn't matter enough to follow him here.
That shouldn't get to me.
It does.
I grab a drink from a tray passing by, more out of habit than anything. My hand is steady, which is good. It means I'm not as off as I thought I'd be.
"Don't think too much."
Cassian's voice comes from beside me, low and close enough that no one else would catch it. I don't react immediately, but I'm aware of him now.
"I'm not," I say.
"You always say that right before you do."
I glance at him. He's watching the room, not me, but I know he's paying attention.
"I know what I'm doing."
He nods slightly, like he'll let that go for now. "Then don't hesitate."
There's something in the way he says it. Not advice. More like a reminder.
Or a warning.
"I won't," I reply.
And I mean it.
I set the glass down and start walking before I can give myself time to think about anything else. The distance between us isn't far, but it feels longer than it should. Maybe because I've been waiting for this moment for too long.
By the time I reach him, he's already looking at me.
Not surprised. Just… aware.
"Can I help you?" he asks.
Same voice.
That almost throws me more than seeing him did.
I tilt my head slightly, letting my gaze settle on him like I'm deciding if he's worth the time. "Maybe."
He studies me for a second, like he's trying to figure out what I want without asking directly. "That doesn't sound convincing."
"Depends," I say. "You worth talking to?"
There's a brief pause, then the corner of his mouth lifts just enough to notice.
"Most people try something a little less direct."
"I'm not most people."
"So I can see."
His attention doesn't shift away this time. It lingers, more focused now, like something about this conversation isn't sitting right with him.
Good.
"You're new," he says.
"Is that a problem?"
"Not yet."
I shrug slightly. "Then we're fine."
A quiet breath leaves him—almost a laugh, but not quite. It's subtle, controlled.
"Name?" he asks.
Of course.
"Aria."
He waits, like he expects more.
"Vale."
For a second, something changes in his expression. It's small, easy to miss if you're not looking for it—but I am. His eyes narrow just slightly, like the name almost meant something before he pushed the thought away.
Interesting.
"Well, Aria Vale," he says slowly, "you don't seem like the type to walk up to strangers without a reason."
"Maybe I was bored."
"I doubt that."
"Then don't believe it."
That earns a real reaction this time—a faint smirk, but there's something sharper behind it now.
He steps just a little closer, not enough to cross a line, but enough to shift the space between us.
"Have we met before?" he asks.
There it is.
I hold his gaze, steady. "No."
It's a lie, but it doesn't feel like one when I say it.
He watches me for a second longer than necessary, like he's waiting for something else—for a slip, maybe. When it doesn't come, his expression doesn't fully relax.
"That's strange," he says quietly.
"Why?"
"Because you look familiar."
I let a small pause stretch between us before answering. "I get that a lot."
"Do you?"
"Mm."
He doesn't look convinced.
From across the room, I can feel Cassian watching. I don't need to turn to know that. It's like pressure sitting at the back of my mind, reminding me why I'm here.
Why I came back.
Ronan's still looking at me like he's trying to place me somewhere he can't reach, and for a second—just a second—I wonder what would happen if he actually did remember.
I push that thought away immediately.
That's not part of the plan.
Nothing about this can be.
Because I didn't come back to figure things out.
I came back for a reason.
And standing this close to him now, seeing the doubt in his eyes, the slight tension in the way he's watching me…
I realize something I didn't expect.
This isn't going to be as simple as I thought.
And the worst part?
I'm not sure if that's because he's hiding something
or because I've been wrong this whole time.