Davon leaned against the wall of his dorm, eyes closed, the memory of Elise's head on his shoulder replaying again and again. The warmth of her touch… the way her breathing had softened… it was all too real.
For the first time in years, his chest tightened—not with pain, but with something dangerously close to hope.
"She's alive," he whispered to himself. "She's really here."
He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing across the room. His crimson eyes glimmered faintly in the dim light. But she doesn't remember. Not me. Not us.
That thought twisted his insides, a sharp reminder of everything he'd lost. And yet… she had smiled, she had spoken to him, even if it was just about their project. And tonight, she had leaned on him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe—just maybe—he could start over.
"Even if she doesn't remember… maybe I can make her fall for me again," he muttered, almost afraid to say the words aloud.
A small, rare smile tugged at his lips. "And who knows… maybe some part of her still remembers, deep down."
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the moon through the window. For the first time in years, Davon allowed himself to believe. Not fully—but enough to feel alive again.