Aurelia's POV
I'm going to throw up.
I've been sitting in this coffee shop for fifteen minutes, checking my phone every thirty seconds, and my stomach won't stop twisting itself into knots.
What am I doing? I'm about to meet a man I've apparently fallen in love with six times but can't remember. A man who might be dangerous. A man who
The door opens.
Time stops.
He's tall, with dark hair that looks messy like he's been running his hands through it. But it's his eyes that make my breath catch storm-grey, intense, searching the coffee shop like he's looking for something precious he lost.
Then those eyes land on me.
He freezes. Completely still, like someone just turned him to stone.
I stand up without meaning to, and my coffee cup tips over. Hot liquid spreads across the table, dripping onto the floor. Neither of us moves to stop it.
It's you, he whispers.
His voice breaks something open inside my chest. I know that voice. I don't remember it, but my body does. My heart does.
Caspian? I manage to say.
You're real. He's walking toward me now, his steps slow and careful, like he's afraid I'll disappear if he moves too fast. You're actually real.
I don't know you, I say.
But even as the words leave my mouth, tears start running down my face. Why am I crying? Why does looking at this stranger make me feel like I'm drowning and breathing at the same time?
Caspian stops a few feet away from me. His hands are shaking. You don't remember me at all?
I shake my head, wiping at my stupid tears. No. But I have a journal full of entries about you. Seventeen entries spanning ten years. And I don't remember writing any of them.
Something flashes in his eyes hope mixed with pain. He pulls out his phone with trembling fingers and shows me the screen.
It's a photograph. Of us.
We're standing together at what looks like an outdoor market. His arm is around my shoulders. I'm laughing at something, my head tilted back, looking happier than I've ever seen myself. And he's looking at me like I'm the only person in the world.
When was this taken? I demand, my voice coming out harsh because I'm scared. Where did you get this?
I don't know when, Caspian says, his voice rough with emotion. I found it in my apartment three years ago, hidden in a book. I have dozens more. Photographs of us together. Journals describing dates we went on. Letters I wrote to you. He pauses, swallowing hard. I don't remember any of it. But I have years of proof that I love you.
The coffee shop suddenly feels too small, too hot, too everything.
This is insane, I whisper.
I know. Caspian takes another step closer. But you feel it too, don't you? Right now, looking at me. You feel something.
I do. God help me, I do.
It's like gravity pulling me toward him. Like my soul recognizing something my mind has forgotten. Like coming home to a place I've never been.
Sit down, I say, because if I don't sit soon, I'm going to collapse. We need to talk.
We both sit at the table, ignoring the spilled coffee. For a long moment, we just stare at each other.
You're more beautiful than the photographs, Caspian says quietly.
Don't, I say quickly. Don't say things like that. We don't know each other.
Don't we? He leans forward. Aurelia, I've been searching for you for three years. I've hired investigators, psychics, memory witches. Nobody could find you. And now you're here, sitting across from me, and you're telling me you've been searching too.
Not searching, I correct. I didn't know you existed until I read my own journal last night. But yes, I've been trying to figure out why I have huge gaps in my memory.
Caspian pulls out his phone again and starts scrolling. I need to show you something. I have journal entries dating back ten years. All about someone named Aurelia. All following the same pattern. He hands me the phone.
I read entry after entry, my heart pounding harder with each one.
Met Aurelia at the Midnight Market today. She can pull memories out of people's heads and store them in bottles. She's extraordinary.
Took Aurelia to dinner. We talked for six hours. I've never connected with anyone like this.
I think I'm falling in love with her. No I know I am.
Then, nothing. Blank pages. And three months later, it starts over.
Saw a woman at the market today. Silver eyes. Something about her felt familiar.
It's the same as my journal, I breathe. Meet, fall in love, and then nothing.
And then we forget, Caspian finishes. We forget each other completely.
I pull out my own journal and show him my entries. We compare dates. The patterns match perfectly. Same timeline. Same cycle.
Someone is doing this to us, I say. Someone is stealing our memories of each other.
Or something, Caspian adds darkly. Could be a curse.
I saw Dr. Isla Novak this morning well, technically yesterday morning since it's 3 AM now. She's a memory expert. She confirmed I'm under a memory curse.
Caspian's jaw tightens. Did she say what kind?
No. She said she needed more time to research. But she told me to hire a curse-breaker. I meet his eyes. That's why I emailed you. You're the best in the city.
And you just happened to email the one person you've been forgetting for ten years, Caspian says. That's not coincidence. That's fate.
I don't believe in fate.
I didn't either. Until tonight.
We sit in silence, both trying to process the impossible situation we're in.
Finally, Caspian speaks. My last journal entry was six months ago. I wrote that I'd just seen you again. That we'd talked. That I was going to help you with something. And then the next entry is from three months ago, back to square one.
My last entry is from six months ago too, I say slowly. It says: 'This was the sixth time. Don't let there be a seventh. DON'T KISS HIM.'
Caspian goes very still. What happens on the seventh time?
According to my journal, the seventh kiss will kill us both.
The air between us becomes heavy with danger and possibility.
So we've kissed six times, Caspian says carefully. And each time we kiss, we forget everything.
Apparently.
But you're saying the seventh time will be different. Fatal.
That's what I wrote.
Caspian reaches across the table slowly, like he's testing something. His hand stops inches from mine. We can't kiss.
No, I agree. We definitely can't.
But neither of us moves away.
My phone suddenly buzzes on the table, making us both jump. It's a text from an unknown number.
You have three hours before sunrise. When the sun comes up, you'll both forget again. Unless you break the curse tonight. Your answer is in the place where it all began. A Friend
I show Caspian the text, my hands shaking.
Where what began? I ask. We don't even remember the beginning.
Caspian's face has gone pale. I got a text too. Right before I came here. It warned me to stay away from you. Said the seventh time would destroy us both.
Someone knows, I whisper. Someone knows what's happening to us. And they're watching.
Caspian stands abruptly. We need to figure this out. Now. Before sunrise.
How? We don't remember anything.
We have our journals. Our photographs. Our evidence. He holds out his hand to me. Come on. We're going to my office. We're going to spread everything out and find the answer.
I stare at his outstretched hand. If I take it, I'm committing to this insane journey with a man I don't know but somehow love.
I take his hand.
The moment our skin touches, the world tilts. A flash of memory not a full memory, just a feeling slams into me. His hand in mine. Walking through a market. Laughing about something. Being happy.
Caspian gasps. Did you feel that?
Yes.
We're still holding hands, both afraid to let go, when my phone buzzes again.
Another text. Same unknown number.
Good choice. But hurry. You have until sunrise to remember. The clock is ticking. And by the way you've been lied to. The seventh kiss won't kill you. It will free you. But someone very powerful doesn't want you free. Someone who's been controlling you both for ten years. Someone close to one of you. Trust no one. A Friend
I show Caspian the message, and his expression hardens.
We're being played, he says. By someone who's been manipulating us for a decade.
But who? And why?
Before he can answer, the coffee shop lights flicker. Once. Twice.
Then they go out completely.
In the darkness, I hear footsteps. Multiple people, moving fast.
Caspian pulls me behind him protectively. We need to leave. Now.
What's happening?
I don't know, but someone doesn't want us figuring this out.
The back door of the coffee shop bursts open.
A figure stands silhouetted in the doorway.
Hello, sister, a familiar voice says.
My blood runs cold.
It's Thorne.