Zina's recovery stunned everyone.
From lifeless to alert in just days, the doctors called it a miracle. But Zina didn't feel whole — not yet. Her mind was a puzzle missing too many pieces.
"I remember someone," she murmured during a check-up. "A girl. Her face... I can't place it, but it feels important."
"You were attacked," the doctor reminded her. "You don't have to force it. The memories will come when they're ready."
But Zina didn't want to wait. Every time she closed her eyes, that face flickered again — sharp, frightened, somehow... familiar.
Damian was ecstatic at Zina's improvement, but distracted. Something had shifted between him and Amara after that kiss in the rain.
He told himself it was a mistake.
But he couldn't stop thinking about her — the way she trembled, the way her lips tasted like salt and storm. She had built walls around herself, and something about tearing through them made his own wounds feel smaller.
The problem?
Zina noticed.
When Zina finally came downstairs weeks later, walking slowly with the help of her nurse, Amara was cleaning the stairs.
Their eyes met.
For a long, awkward beat — something passed between them.
That's her, Zina thought.
But she didn't say it. She didn't know it. Not fully.
Instead, Zina smiled.
"You look kind," she said softly. "What's your name?"
"Amara."
"Would you… sit with me for a while?"
Amara hesitated. Then nodded.
They sat in the sunroom, where the breeze was light and silence comfortable. Zina asked questions — gentle, casual ones. About Amara's chores, her food, if she liked it here.
And for the first time in forever, Amara felt seen.
In the days that followed, a strange bond bloomed between them.
Zina would call Amara to read to her. Laugh at her dry jokes. Share stories about growing up in a house full of shadows and power.
And in those moments, Amara forgot who she was. Forgot what she had done.
But Damian didn't forget the kiss.
And neither did she.
Every glance now burned. Every "Good morning" was loaded. They both avoided each other and ached at the same time.
Zina noticed that too.
One evening, Zina sat in the garden watching Damian from afar as he leaned close to Amara, whispering something that made her flinch — then smile.
It was the smile that made Zina's stomach twist.
A strange, sharp sting — ugly and unwelcome.
She had always loved Damian.
Even if she never said it aloud, she loved the way he protected her when her mother ignored her. The way he fought with his father to defend her. The way he smiled only when she was around.
And now?
He was looking at someone else like that.
Zina didn't understand it. Her memory was still a blur — but her heart felt like it was breaking over something she hadn't even remembered she owned.
End of Episode 6