My breath fogged the mirror as I stared at the stranger—my reflection.I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, louder than the silence that had swallowed the hallway just seconds ago.
She knew my name. Elara. Was she the voice I heard? Was she watching me? Was this her idea of comfort—trapping me in a golden cage and leaving cryptic messages? I moved away from the mirror and pressed my ear to the wooden door. The hallway outside was quiet again, but the image of those deliberate footsteps echoed in my mind.
Click. Click. Click.
They weren't rushed.They weren't hesitant. They were confident. Like she already knew I wouldn't run. I turned back to the room, searching. There had to be something—anything—that told me what this place was. What I was doing here.
The dresser drawers were filled with clothes, all my size, all pristine. Shirts with monograms on the cuffs. Slacks folded too perfectly. Leather belts. A gold-plated wristwatch ticking like it had been counting the seconds until I woke up. No photos. No journals. No IDs. No clues.
It was like someone had built a life and erased every trace of how it was built.My phone buzzed again. I flinched.Another message from Elara.
"Please don't be scared. I'll explain everything soon. Let yourself remember first."
Let myself remember?
Was that a joke? My memory was like shattered glass—scattered pieces that wouldn't line up. And each time I tried to touch them, I bled a little more.
I stared at the phone screen until it dimmed. I didn't text back. What would I even say?"Hi, I think I'm a ghost in someone else's body. Also, where's the exit?" I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to breathe normally.
Inhale.Exhale.Four seconds in.Hold.Four seconds out. A trick I barely remembered learning from somewhere. A therapist? A book? Or maybe a friend I no longer had? The silence returned, wrapping itself around me like a noose.And then— A soft knock on the door.My body locked up. Three knocks. Gentle. Slow. Like a lullaby. I didn't move. I didn't speak. My chest rose and fell in tight little jerks. A voice followed.
Soft. Low. Female. "Aiden... I know you're awake." I swallowed hard. "Who are you?" I managed, my voice hoarse.
A pause.
"I'm Elara. I'm not here to hurt you. I promise." Promises are cheap. "Where am I?" I asked.
She hesitated. "Home." That single word sent a chill through me. It wasn't the word itself—it was the way she said it. Like it had layers. Like she meant more than one thing by it. "This isn't my home," I said flatly. "It is now."
My hand hovered near the door handle. I didn't want to open it, but I didn't want to stay trapped either. "Please," she said softly. "Just give me a few minutes. I'll answer everything. Or as much as I can." Her voice wasn't demanding. It wasn't even nervous. It was… tired. The kind of tired that sounds like regret.
"I don't trust you," I said. "I don't expect you to. But you have no idea how long I've waited for you to open your eyes again." That last word—again—rang in my ears.
I opened the door.
Just a crack.
She stood there, barefoot on the hallway rug. Mid-20s, long dark hair falling over one shoulder, wearing a soft beige sweater and linen pants. No makeup. No jewelry. Just calm eyes—hazel, warm, but unreadable.
She looked relieved to see me. As if I were a puzzle she'd finally found the missing piece to.
"Can I come in?" she asked. I didn't answer. I stepped aside. A silent agreement. She walked in carefully, like she respected the room's silence. Her eyes moved across the walls, the chandelier, the mirror—like she was remembering something too. "I know this is overwhelming," she began. "Overwhelming? Try insane." She nodded. "I understand." I folded my arms. "Start talking." She sat down in the armchair by the fireplace, crossing her legs like this was just another Sunday evening. Her composure was unreal. "You were in an accident," she said. "A bad one. Six weeks ago."
I didn't flinch, but my chest tightened. "No ID, no family listed. But I knew who you were." My eyes narrowed. "So you just took me?" "I brought you here. I didn't want you to wake up in a hospital surrounded by people who didn't know you." She looked at me. "I knew you." "From where?"
She looked down. Her fingers twisted slightly in her lap. "You saved me once. Three years ago. You wouldn't remember. You never asked for anything in return. But I promised myself… if I ever got the chance, I'd do the same for you." My mouth went dry. My brain tried to dig, to find that memory.
Three years ago?
Nothing. Just static. "I had nowhere else to go," she added. "And neither did you." A long silence passed between us. The kind that weighs more than words. "I don't remember any of that," I said. "You will." "You keep saying that. Like remembering will magically fix everything." It won't," she admitted. "But it's where the truth begins." I paced the room. My body felt like it belonged here, but my mind screamed run.
"You said this is my home now." "Yes." "What does that mean?" Elara stood up. Walked to the window. Parted the curtain slightly. "This house," she said, "wasn't built for the person you used to be. It was built for the person you were becoming. Before the accident." Her voice was steady, but there was a sadness buried underneath. "You're saying I lived here before?" "Not exactly," she said. "But this house… this life… it was yours in pieces. It just hadn't come together yet." That didn't make sense. None of this made sense. I turned to face her. "Am I crazy?" She smiled faintly. "No. But the world around you has changed more than you realize. You're not the only one who forgot. Some people wanted you to forget."
"Who?" "I can't tell you yet." "Why not?""Because you're still not safe." I stepped closer. "You brought me here to protect me?" "Yes." "And now I'm in more danger?" She nodded. "There are people who think you're still asleep. Who think you're still lost. If they find out you've woken up..." She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to. I already felt the noose tightening. Outside, in the distance, a car engine growled. A motion-sensitive light flickered in the yard. A shadow moved across the gate.
Elara stepped closer to the window, lowering the curtain again."They're watching," she whispered."Who are they?" She turned back to me."You'll remember soon. But you need to pretend for now." "Pretend what?" "That you're still asleep."