Ethan
Ethan stood by the long windows of his office, adjusting his tie as he gazed out at the city's skyline, which shimmered like scattered stars against the deepening night. It was a view that had always been dramatic, yet somehow, it never quite stirred his heart. Years had slipped by in this very space, where he dutifully fulfilled the expectations placed upon him by the Dominion. At thirty, he stood at the peak of his career, navigating one of the largest companies within the conglomerate, and from all outward appearances, he was thriving.
Yet, deep inside, a feeling lingered — a sense of incompleteness that he couldn't quite shake.
The office door creaked open, pulling him from his thoughts. Rowan entered, his relaxed gait shifting into a more scrutinizing posture as he approached Ethan. A folder rested in his hand, and a familiar frown played on his brow.
"You've got solid numbers for last quarter," Rowan announced, placing the folder on the desk.
Ethan nodded, his response clipped. "Good. Leave it there."
Rowan lingered, his gaze fixed on Ethan with an understanding that suggested he knew him far too well. "You've been awake since dawn," he observed, his voice light but laced with concern. "Maybe take five minutes to—"
"I'm fine, Rowan," Ethan interrupted, his tone even, though not harsh.
Rowan raised an eyebrow but chose not to press further, retreating back toward the desk. Ethan appreciated Rowan's restraint; he was not one to push unless it was truly necessary.
Then Aria entered, her heels tapping lightly on the floor as the door swung open again. She held a coffee mug, steam curling softly from its surface.
"I thought you might need this," she said, setting the cup down gently on his desk.
"Thanks," Ethan replied, taking a moment to meet her gaze before turning back to the window.
"You're welcome." There was always a lightness in her voice, even amidst the weightiest moments. Aria had a way of balancing the sharp edges in the room, smoothing over the cracks with her warmth and humour.
Cass followed closely behind, a tablet confidently grasped in her hand. "We're tracking growth in the East," she stated in her usual, succinct manner.
Ethan maintained his curt, businesslike exchanges, but the others understood that his demeanour was not personal. Cass lingered for a moment longer, a flicker of concern passing through her hazel eyes.
"Anything else?" Ethan asked.
"Nope. Just wanted to ensure you aren't going to collapse on me midway through this meeting," Aria said, offering a small smile before stepping back.
Rowan closed the door behind him, and Ethan returned to the corner of his office, hands tucked into his pockets, staring out at the city. The hum of their voices faded, leaving him to the quiet thrum of his thoughts.
As evening settled in, the familiar flashes returned. It was always the same dream — chasing a figure just beyond his reach in the fog of his mind, her silhouette forever a step ahead. And her voice lingered in his memory:
"Stay low... stay alive... stay safe…"
He rubbed his temple, the echo of her words reverberating faintly in his ears, the ache in his chest intensifying. Sometimes, during waking hours, he thought he caught a glimpse of her — a fleeting motion at the edge of his vision, gone when he turned to look.
He never spoke of this to the others. What would they think? That he was exhausted, stretched too thin? They wouldn't comprehend. How could they, when even he struggled to understand the source of his discomfort?
"Who are you?" The question slipped from his lips, barely audible, as the room stood still around him.
He shut his eyes for a moment, hoping to banish the shadows of her presence. But tomorrow would bring the same cycle — the meetings, the decisions, the relentless forward momentum. Yet tonight, with her voice echoing in his ears, Ethan felt the weight of an inescapable truth: he was chasing something elusive, something he might never truly grasp.
Aria
The elevator doors slid shut behind them, sealing the trio inside with a low hum. Aria glanced between Rowan and Cass, her tablet hugged tightly to her chest as the silence thickened. For a moment, none of them spoke. Then, as the soft pull of the elevator began its descent, Aria finally broke the quiet.
"He's still not sleeping," she murmured, her tone barely above a whisper. "You saw it, didn't you? The shadows under his eyes, the way he just... zones out mid-conversation."
Cass nodded, concern flashing in her hazel eyes. "It's getting worse. He's distracted during meetings. Even his focus—usually sharp as a blade—feels... distant."
Rowan crossed his arms, leaning against the elevator wall. His sharp gaze dropped slightly, as though weighing his next words carefully. "It's the nightmares again, isn't it? Same as before."
Aria exhaled softly, her lips pressed into a thin line. "It always is. He tries to hide it, but it's there. I know it is. And it's not just the dreams, either. Sometimes, when he's awake, I catch him looking at nothing—like he's chasing someone only he can see."
She hesitated, her grip on the tablet tightening. "And then there's Luelle."
The name hung in the air, heavy with memories. It wasn't often spoken anymore—not out loud, at least.
Cass glanced at Rowan, her voice softer now. "You think that's why? The nightmares? Because of what she did?"
Aria nodded slowly, her thoughts flickering back to the hospital all those years ago. "She sacrificed herself for him," she said, her words steady despite the weight they carried. "She knew what she was doing—throwing herself into the path of that bullet to save him. But sometimes, I wonder... how did she know? How did she spot the sniper in the first place? None of us saw it until after everything happened."
She shook her head slightly, her brows knit together. "It's like she knew before anyone else. Like she was always one step ahead of the rest of us. And it still haunts me that none of us were able to stop it before it came to that."
Her mind flicked to Luelle's mother—the day she had stood in the hospital corridor, her expression stoic despite the heartbreak in her eyes. There had been no funeral, no memorial service. "It's against our religion," she had said firmly, though the sorrow in her voice betrayed her calm demeanour. She had decided to cremate Luelle, taking her ashes back to the countryside of the town where she had grown up. "She'll rest there," her mother had added quietly, as though trying to find solace in the decision.
The image of that moment haunted Aria still, just as Luelle's absence haunted Ethan in ways he didn't fully understand.
The memory of that night was vivid in Aria's mind—the chaos of the ballroom, the frantic efforts to save Luelle, and the sterile white walls of the hospital where it all had ended. The doctor's words hung heavy in her memory: "We did everything we could." Ethan had collapsed after hearing them, the weight of the moment pulling him under. When he had woken three days later, he had no recollection of Luelle—not her face, not her voice, not the connection they'd shared.
"He doesn't even remember her, does he?" Cass said softly, breaking the silence. "Not really."
Aria shook her head. "No. His mind locked it away, as if to protect him from the pain. He remembers tutoring her, vaguely, but she's just... a blur to him now."
Rowan's brow furrowed. "Then why the nightmares? Why is she still haunting him after all these years?"
Aria's gaze dropped briefly. "Because his heart remembers. Even if he doesn't consciously know who she was, his subconscious does. He loved her, Rowan. Even if he didn't admit it at the time—even if he didn't understand it fully—he did. And now, he's left with fragments of a loss he can't name but feels deeply all the same."
Cass frowned, brushing a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. "You think that's why he's still chasing her in his dreams?"
"I do," Aria replied quietly. "Part of him knows what she did for him. He's still carrying the weight of her sacrifice, even if he doesn't realize it. And maybe he's chasing her because deep down, he knows he lost her before he could ever tell her how he felt."
The elevator dinged softly as they reached their floor, and the three stepped into the corridor. Aria's pace slowed as her thoughts lingered on the past.
"Thirteen years," she murmured. "I can't believe it's been that long. It feels like just yesterday we were waiting in that hospital room, hoping for a miracle. And now... look at us. Rowan's running operations, Cass is one of the company's best strategists, James is holding down public relations like he was born for it. And Ethan..." She trailed off, her voice faltering. "He's exactly where the Dominion wanted him to be."
"But he's not whole," Rowan finished quietly.
Aria nodded. "No, he's not."
Her gaze flicked toward Rowan and Cass, noting the way their hands brushed subtly as they walked together. Married for years now, they were a testament to the strength of love even in the darkest times. She envied that, sometimes—their ability to find comfort in each other when everything else seemed to crumble.
"Do you think he'll ever remember her?" Cass asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Aria's steps slowed; her eyes distant. "I don't know. Part of me hopes he doesn't, because if he ever does... the guilt might break him all over again."
They walked on in silence, the weight of their unspoken thoughts trailing behind them.