The rooftop had become their favorite spot—high enough to see threats approaching, secure enough that they could relax without constantly watching their backs.
Tonight, they'd built a small fire in a metal barrel they'd scavenged, the flames casting dancing shadows across the concrete.
Below them, chaos unfolded as it always did in Avalon. A pack of demons fighting hybrids over territory or food or some other resource that wouldn't matter once they were all dead.
In the distance, they could hear screaming—another survivor who hadn't made it, who'd miscalculated their supplies or gotten caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Nana sat close to the fire, her knees drawn up to her chest, watching the flames. Zayne sat beside her—close enough that their shoulders touched, far enough that he could pretend it was just for warmth and safety rather than the simple fact that he liked being near her.
"You know what I miss?" Nana said softly, her eyes distant. "Coffee. Real coffee, not the instant powder garbage we find sometimes. That doctor I told you about? He used to meet me at this cafe in Linkon. I'd order the sweetest, most ridiculous drink on the menu, and he'd get black coffee and look at me like I was committing a crime against caffeine."
Zayne felt that now-familiar twist in his chest. That jealousy that made no sense but refused to go away.
"He sounds boring," he said flatly.
"He was! So boring. But in this way that was... comforting, you know? Predictable. Safe. When everything in my life was chaotic and dangerous, he was this constant. Always there, always reliable, always carrying those stupid strawberry candies for me."
She smiled at the memory, and it made something in Zayne's chest crack open painfully.
"Did he know?" Zayne asked, his voice rougher than intended. "That you loved him?"
"I told him. Eventually. After a lot of dancing around it and being too scared to ruin what we had." Nana picked at the edge of her sleeve.
"And he told me he'd loved me since the first time he saw me. Can you believe that? Love at first sight. I thought that was just in movies."
"What happened?" The question came out harsh. "If you loved each other so much, why are you here talking about him like he's gone?"
Nana's smile turned sad. "Because he is gone. He sacrificed himself to save me. Let himself be transformed into something that couldn't escape so that I could. And I..." Her voice cracked. "I couldn't save him. Couldn't stop him from making that choice."
Zayne was silent. His jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
He should feel sympathy. Should comfort her. Should say something supportive about her lost love.
Instead, all he felt was this irrational, consuming jealousy. Of a man he'd never met. A man who was probably dead. A man who'd been noble and self-sacrificing and everything Zayne apparently wasn't.
"I'm sure he was perfect," Zayne said, and it came out bitter. "This doctor. Handsome and smart and heroic. Everything a woman could want."
"He wasn't perfect," Nana said quietly. "He was stubborn. Emotionally constipated. Had this annoying habit of thinking he knew what was best for everyone. Would literally rather die than let someone else get hurt, which sounds noble but is actually incredibly frustrating when you're the person he's trying to protect."
"Sounds like an idiot."
"He was." But she said it with so much affection that Zayne wanted to punch something. "A beautiful, brilliant idiot who I'd give anything to see again."
Zayne stood abruptly, moving away from the fire. He couldn't sit there anymore listening to Nana talk about another man with that tone in her voice. Couldn't pretend it didn't bother him.
"Zayne?" Nana's voice was concerned. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He kept his back to her, staring out at the ruins. "Just needed to move."
"You're lying. Your ears are red."
"They're not—" He cut himself off. Why did his body always betray him like this?
He heard her stand, heard her footsteps approaching.
Then her hand was on his arm, gentle but insistent.
"Talk to me," she said. "What's going on in that overthinking brain of yours?"
"It's stupid." Zayne still wouldn't look at her. "You'll think I'm being ridiculous."
"Try me."
He was silent for a long moment. Then, quietly: "Are you doing this on purpose? Talking about him all the time?"
"What do you mean?"
"Testing me. Seeing if I'll get jealous." He finally turned to face her, and something in his expression must have shown the turmoil inside because Nana's eyes went wide.
"Because if you are, congratulations. It's working. I'm jealous of a man I've never met. A dead man. A man who gave up his life for you, which should make me respect him, but instead I just..." He ran a hand through his hair roughly. "I hate him. I hate that he knew you first. That he had your love when he still had his memories and his whole self. That you look like that when you talk about him—like he was everything and I'm just..."
"Just what?" Nana prompted softly.
"A replacement. Someone to keep you company until you can find a way back to him."
The words hung in the air between them, raw and painful.
Before Nana could respond—before she could reassure him or worse, confirm his fears—Zayne moved.
It was instinct. The same instinct that made him fight so well, that kept him alive in this hellscape. He stepped forward and pinned Nana against the wall, his hands on either side of her head, caging her in.
The same way she always did to him before kissing him senseless.
But he was bigger, stronger. When he did it, she was completely trapped.
Nana's breath caught. Her dark eyes went wide, pupils dilating as she stared up at him.
"Is this what you wanted?" Zayne's voice was low, intense. His hazel eyes burned into hers. "To make me jealous? To see what I'd do?"
"I—" Her voice came out breathless.
"Zayne, I—"
"Because it worked. I'm so jealous I can barely think straight. Every time you talk about him—about how handsome he was, how much you loved him, how he carried strawberry candies for you—it makes me want to..." He leaned closer, his face inches from hers. "It's irrational. It's stupid. I have no right to feel this way about you. But I do."
Nana was staring at him with an expression he couldn't quite read. Shock, yes. But also something else. Something that looked almost like... amusement?
"Are you laughing?" Zayne demanded.
"No! I'm not—okay, maybe a little." Her lips were twitching, fighting a smile. "But only because—"
"Because you think it's funny that I'm upset?"
"No! Because the doctor I keep talking about—" She reached up and cupped his jaw, her small hands warm against his skin. "Zayne. The doctor is you."
Everything stopped.
Zayne's brain short-circuited, trying to process what she'd just said.
"What?"
"In Linkon City. Before all this. You were a cardiologist at Linkon Hospital. You carried strawberry candies specifically for me. You met me at cafes and drank black coffee while I ordered the sweetest drinks possible. You talked like a robot and blushed whenever I flirted with you." Her thumbs brushed over his cheekbones. "You loved me. And I loved you. And then we both fell into Avalon and got separated and you died and..."
"I'm the doctor," Zayne repeated, his mind still struggling to catch up. "You've been talking about me this whole time."
"Yes, you beautiful idiot. Who did you think I was talking about?"
"I thought—someone else. Someone from your past life who—" He blinked rapidly, trying to reorganize his entire understanding of the last hour. "You made me jealous of myself?"
"Technically you made yourself jealous of yourself," Nana pointed out. "I just didn't correct you because watching you get all possessive and intense was..." She bit her lip. "Really attractive, actually. Is that bad? That's probably bad."
Zayne stared at her. At this small, fierce woman who'd tracked him for months, who'd fought beside him, who'd kissed him and held his hand and made him laugh in the middle of hell.
Who'd been in love with him before he'd even known her name.
Who'd loved him enough to come back to this nightmare just to find him.
"You're insane," he said.
"Probably." She was smiling now, that brilliant smile that made his heart do stupid things. "But you love me anyway."
"I don't—" But the protest died in his throat. Because it was true, wasn't it? Whatever this feeling was—this need to be near her, to protect her, to keep her smiling even when the world was ending—if that wasn't love, he didn't know what was.
"I might. Yes. I think I do."
"You think?"
"I know," he corrected. "I know I do. I love you. Even without remembering our past. Even without understanding half of what you've been through to find me. I love you."
Nana's smile turned watery, tears gathering in her eyes. "Say it again."
"I love you."
"Again."
"I love you, Nana." He leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers. "I love you, and I'm sorry I was such an idiot just now. Getting jealous of myself. That's probably the most ridiculous thing I've done in either of my lives."
"It was pretty ridiculous," she agreed. "But also kind of sweet. In a possessive, slightly unhinged way."
"I'm blaming you for that. You made me—"
She kissed him before he could finish. Rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, swallowing whatever complaint he'd been about to make.
And Zayne, who'd been fighting his feelings for months, who'd been telling himself he had no right to want her when she was clearly mourning someone else, finally let go.
He kissed her back. Properly. One hand sliding from the wall to cup the back of her neck, the other moving to her waist to pull her closer. She made a small surprised sound—a squeak that got muffled against his mouth—that would have made him smile if he wasn't so focused on memorizing everything about this moment.
The way she tasted—like the strawberry candy they'd shared earlier. The way she fit perfectly against him despite their height difference. The way her hands fisted in his shirt like she was afraid he'd disappear if she let go.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Zayne rested his forehead against hers again.
"So," he said, slightly dazed. "You came back to Avalon for me. Searched for six months. And then spent three more months making me fall in love with you without telling me we'd already been in love once before."
"Yes." Nana didn't sound remotely apologetic. "Would you have believed me if I'd told you immediately? That we'd known each other in another life? That you'd sacrificed yourself to save me?"
"Probably not," he admitted. "I would have thought you were trying to manipulate me."
"Exactly. I needed you to choose me again. Not because of memories or obligation, but because you wanted to. Because you—" Her voice cracked slightly. "Because even without your past, you could still love me."
"I do," Zayne said firmly. "I love you. This version of me, with no memories and no idea who I used to be, loves you. Does that... is that enough?"
"It's everything." Nana pulled him down for another kiss, this one softer. Sweeter. "It's more than enough."
They stood there against the wall, holding each other while the fire crackled behind them and chaos raged in the streets below.
Eventually, they'd have to move. Have to keep surviving, keep fighting, keep preparing for the blood moon that would come again.
But for now, they had this. Each other. A love that had survived death and rebirth and six months of separation.
A love that didn't need memories to be real.
"Come on," Nana said eventually, taking his hand. "Let's sit by the fire. And you can ask me anything you want about our past. About Linkon. About us."
"Anything?" Zayne let her pull him back toward the warmth.
"Anything."
They settled by the fire again, but this time Nana curled into his side, his arm around her shoulders, her head on his chest.
"Tell me about the first time we met," Zayne said quietly.
And Nana did. She told him about the cafe, about watching him watch her eat pasta like a hungry hamster. About the strawberry candies and the awkward flirting and the slow, inevitable fall into something neither of them could fight.
She told him about their first time in Avalon together. About fighting to survive, about finding each other again, about the Wish Bridge and his sacrifice.
She told him everything.
And Zayne listened, his hand stroking through her hair, and felt pieces of himself clicking into place. Not memories—not quite. But understanding. Recognition.
This was who he'd been. Who he still was, underneath the amnesia and trauma.
Someone who loved this small, fierce woman enough to die for her.
Someone who she'd loved enough to come back to hell for.
And as the fire burned down and the night deepened, Zayne made a silent promise.
This time, they'd both make it out. Both walk through that portal together.
No more sacrifices. No more deaths.
Just him and Nana, finally going home.
Together.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued.