The question was simple.
"...Do you happen to know mine?"
Yet Ayan found himself unable to answer immediately.
The woman sitting beneath the ancient tree watched him patiently.
Silver hair fell loosely over her shoulders. Fine lines marked the corners of her eyes, traces left behind by years Ayan knew she could no longer remember. Her clothes were simple and clean, and the leather journal resting upon her lap had been repaired so many times that several different kinds of thread held its binding together.
She did not look frightened.
That surprised him most.
After seventeen years of waking into uncertainty, after losing not merely days but eventually minutes, Ayan had expected fear.
Instead...
Isolde looked peaceful.
Curious.
Almost amused by his silence.
She tilted her head.
"Was that a difficult question?"
Ayan finally smiled.
"A little."
"Oh."
She considered this seriously.
"Then perhaps I shouldn't have asked."
"No."
Ayan stepped closer.
"I'm glad you did."
He knelt so they were at eye level.
"Your name is Isolde."
The woman became very still.
"Isolde..."
She repeated it slowly.
Not with recognition.
With examination.
As though someone had handed her an unfamiliar object and told her it belonged to her.
"Isolde."
Again.
Her fingers moved to the journal.
"That's pretty."
Ayan's chest tightened.
"It is."
She smiled.
"Thank you for telling me."
Then she opened her journal.
On the first page, written in large dark letters, were the words:
**YOUR NAME WAS ISOLDE.**
Beneath them, someone had added:
**YOU DO NOT HAVE TO REMEMBER.**
Ayan stared at the second sentence.
Isolde noticed.
"Did you write that?"
"No."
"Did I?"
"I don't know."
She laughed softly.
"Neither do I."
There was no bitterness in the sound.
Only acceptance.
Ayan didn't know whether that made it easier or more painful.
...
The forest woman who had guided them into Haven approached.
"My name is Mira."
She spoke slowly while standing where Isolde could see her.
"I live in the house beside the lake."
Isolde smiled.
"Hello, Mira."
"We've met before."
Mira nodded.
"Many times."
"Was I nice?"
The question caught everyone by surprise.
Mira's expression softened.
"Always."
Isolde visibly relaxed.
"Good."
She looked down at her hands.
"I worry about that sometimes."
Ayan frowned.
"About what?"
"If I forget people..."
She searched for the words.
"...I worry that perhaps I become unkind without knowing it."
Mira crouched beside her.
"You haven't."
"Not once."
Isolde looked relieved.
"That's good."
A few moments passed.
Then her eyes moved toward Mira again.
A faint confusion appeared.
"I'm sorry..."
Mira didn't flinch.
"My name is Mira."
Recognition of what had happened crossed Ayan's face.
Less than three minutes.
That was all.
Isolde smiled apologetically.
"Mira."
She repeated the name.
"Thank you."
Mira simply smiled back.
No frustration.
No sadness visible on her face.
Only patience practiced so often it had become natural.
...
Doctor Rowan approached slowly.
He had been watching from several steps away.
"May I examine you?"
Isolde looked at him.
"Are you a doctor?"
"I am."
"Have we met?"
"No."
She smiled brightly.
"Wonderful."
Doctor Rowan blinked.
"Wonderful?"
"Then I haven't forgotten you yet."
For several seconds, no one knew how to respond.
Then Rowan laughed.
A genuine, warm laugh.
Isolde joined him despite not knowing why.
"What's your name?"
"Rowan."
She repeated it.
"Rowan."
Then she held out her wrist.
"Doctors usually want this."
Rowan smiled.
"Experienced patient?"
"Apparently."
...
He examined her for nearly half an hour.
Her eyes.
Pulse.
Breathing.
Reflexes.
He asked simple questions.
"What season is it?"
Isolde looked toward the trees.
"Summer?"
"Correct."
"Do you know where you are?"
She looked around.
"A village."
"Do you know its name?"
She glanced toward a wooden sign attached to the tree.
**YOU ARE IN HAVEN. YOU ARE SAFE.**
"Haven."
Rowan nodded.
"Do you know how old you are?"
Isolde paused.
"No."
"Do you know what year it is?"
"No."
"Do you remember arriving here?"
"No."
"Do you remember what you ate this morning?"
She smiled awkwardly.
"I don't remember this morning."
Rowan's expression remained calm.
But Ayan saw the concern behind it.
Finally, Doctor Rowan stepped away.
Isolde immediately looked toward him.
"Are you a doctor?"
The old man froze for only a fraction of a second.
Then smiled exactly as he had before.
"I am."
"My name is Rowan."
"Hello, Rowan."
...
Later, they gathered inside Mira's home.
Isolde remained outside beneath the tree, happily helping two children sort wildflowers.
Every few minutes, one child told her their names again.
Neither seemed bothered.
"How long has she been like this?"
Rowan asked.
Mira poured tea.
"When she reached Haven last spring, she could remember about an hour."
"Then thirty minutes."
"Then ten."
She looked through the window.
"Now..."
"Three or four minutes on good days."
Maren's face paled.
"And eventually?"
Mira didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
Ayan looked through the window.
Isolde was laughing because one of the children had placed a flower behind her ear.
Then she noticed the flower.
Touched it.
Looked surprised.
The children laughed.
Isolde laughed with them.
A moment she had already lost...
Yet was somehow enjoying again.
"Who wrote the signs?"
Ayan asked.
"We all did."
Mira answered.
"At first, Isolde wrote notes herself."
"But she started forgetting why she'd written them."
"So Haven changed."
Ayan looked at her.
"The entire village?"
Mira nodded.
"We placed signs."
"Colored ribbons."
"Names on doors."
"Instructions beside the well."
"We stopped moving furniture unnecessarily."
"We created routines."
Maren stared at her.
"You changed your whole village for one person?"
Mira seemed confused by the question.
"No."
She smiled.
"We changed the village because one of us needed it."
The answer silenced everyone.
...
That evening, Ayan returned to the ancient tree.
Isolde was still there.
The children had gone home.
She sat alone, watching the sunset.
Ayan approached.
She turned.
"Hello."
"Hello."
"I'm Isolde."
This time...
She had read the journal before he arrived.
"My name is Ayan."
"Ayan."
She smiled.
"Have we met?"
"Yes."
"Was I nice?"
Ayan almost laughed.
"You were."
"Good."
He sat beside her.
For several moments, they watched the sky.
Orange slowly became crimson.
Crimson became violet.
Then Isolde spoke.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why are you sad?"
Ayan turned toward her.
"I'm not."
She shook her head.
"You are."
"How can you tell?"
Isolde thought carefully.
"I don't know."
Ayan stared at her.
She couldn't remember his name for more than a few minutes.
Yet she noticed what he was feeling.
"Is it because of me?"
Ayan didn't answer.
Apparently...
That was answer enough.
Isolde smiled.
"Don't be."
"Isolde—"
"I don't know what I've lost."
She looked toward the sunset.
"Maybe that's terrible."
"Maybe I used to have people I loved."
"Maybe I had dreams."
"Maybe there are things I should desperately want back."
Her fingers rested upon the journal.
"But right now..."
She looked at him.
"...the sky is beautiful."
Ayan fell silent.
"I know I'll forget it."
She continued.
"But forgetting the sunset doesn't mean I didn't see it."
The Bridge pulsed.
Once.
Deeply.
Isolde smiled.
"And if I forget you..."
Her eyes softened.
"...that doesn't mean meeting you didn't matter."
The silver notebook appeared in Ayan's hands.
Its pages opened.
For several seconds...
Nothing was written.
Then silver ink slowly formed.
**You came here believing she had lost herself.**
Ayan's breath caught.
Another line appeared.
**But perhaps you were searching for the wrong thing.**
Then...
A final question.
**If every memory disappears... what remains?**
Ayan stared at the words.
The notebook closed.
Beside him, Isolde suddenly spoke.
"I'm sorry."
Ayan looked up.
Her expression had changed.
Confusion.
The few minutes were gone.
She looked at him as a stranger.
"Have we met?"
Ayan felt something ache inside his chest.
But this time...
He smiled.
"Yes."
Isolde looked worried.
"Did I forget you?"
"You did."
"I'm sorry."
"You don't need to be."
He held out his hand.
"My name is Ayan."
She looked at his hand.
Then placed hers gently into it.
"I'm Isolde."
Ayan smiled.
"I know."
Above Haven, the first stars appeared.
And beneath the ancient tree, two strangers met again.
For the second time.
For the tenth.
Perhaps one day...
For the hundredth.
But as Ayan finally began to understand...
The number did not matter.
Because every meeting was real.
Even if only one of them would remember it.