Kevin leaned back against the bench, exhaling as though the weight of years rested on his shoulders. The afternoon sun spilled through the canopy of acacia trees, scattering shifting patterns of gold and shadow across the pavement.
"We met that summer," he began, his voice carrying a trace of nostalgia. "You were with a group of friends at the university fair. We joined you after that and became your friends. You treated us like siblings... You even called me your little brother, remember?"
Ahce's gaze drifted to the distance, where sunlight flickered across the glass windows of the hospital building. She shook her head slowly, her chest hollow, her expression caught between disbelief and sorrow.
Kevin's face softened. Pity flickered there, mingled with a deeper grief, one that came from watching someone he admired turn into a stranger before his eyes. Carefully, he drew out his phone, his fingers trembling slightly as he tapped the screen.
"Then look," he whispered.
He turned the screen toward her.
Ahce's breath hitched.
There she was, smiling, laughing, frozen in moments that felt like stolen dreams. In one photo, she flashed a peace sign beside a group of students. Kevin stood next to her, his arm slung casually over her shoulder, grinning at the camera. At the edge of the frame stood Richard, his eyes fixed on her rather than the lens.
Kevin swiped through more images.
Ahce at a karaoke night, at a bowling alley, blowing out candles on a cake she couldn't recall tasting. Each photograph carved deeper into her confusion. Every smile felt foreign. Every memory, a theft.
"I... I don't remember any of this," she whispered, her hands trembling as she took the phone.
"But it happened," Kevin said firmly.
His tone cracked slightly, revealing the emotion he tried to mask.
"You were there. You were with us. And Richard..." He swallowed, his voice faltering. "He wasn't just a part of your life. You were his life."
The weight of his words pressed down on her like gravity itself.
She looked down at the half-empty coffee cup in her hand, its warmth fading fast.
"Why was he in a car accident?" she asked quietly.
Kevin's expression shifted, the question dragging something darker from his thoughts. He shifted on the bench, brows knitting together. "Big sis, you know his family is... complicated."
Ahce's eyes met his, searching, demanding more. "How complicated did it get this time?"
He exhaled heavily.
"Richard heard that his mother wanted to separate from his father. His elder brother sides with their father, always has, like a shadow that never leaves. His sister, Elena, buries herself in schoolwork, pretending not to see the cracks. And the youngest, Carah..." His gaze softened. "She's fragile. The fighting tore her apart."
A jolt rippled through Ahce's chest, sudden and sharp. Before she could stop herself, words slipped out, raw and certain. "His mother cheated again?"
The air froze between them. Kevin's eyes widened, his lips parting in shock, but no sound followed.
Ahce blinked, startled by her own voice. The certainty of her tone frightened her. She pressed a trembling hand to her temple, as though she could force the truth to surface. "I... I'm sorry, Kevin. It just came out. I don't even know why I said that."
Kevin swallowed hard. "But you're right, Big sis. Madam Celestine... she was seeing another man before. Richard never really forgave her. This time, though, she says she wants freedom, not just a fling. She wants to live her own life. But his father... he won't let go. He still thinks he can fix what's broken."
Ahce's chest tightened. "He must have been worried... about all of them."
Kevin nodded slowly, his expression shadowed. "He was. More than anyone knew. But look around, right now, there's only you and me here for him. His family's too lost in their own storms. You're the only one who can reach him."
His words sank deep into her, unrelenting and cold.
I am the only one who can reach him...
But how could she reach someone she could no longer remember?
"What was he like?" she asked softly.
Kevin leaned back again, his gaze lifting toward the fading sky. His voice was calm, almost reverent. "He was the kind of person who kept everyone safe. A quiet shield, you didn't even realize how much you depended on him until the storm came. His smile warmed people, made them believe everything would be fine."
He hesitated, his eyes lowering. "But there was always this wall... this distance. Like he was carrying something no one else could touch. No matter how close we got, we could never reach that part of him. Unless he broke."
The words stung. In her mind, Ahce saw only the pale, still figure lying unconscious in the hospital bed, a man both familiar and unreachable. Someone who should have been a stranger, but wasn't.
"What was one thing I always did with him?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Kevin smiled faintly, a spark of warmth cutting through the heaviness. "Play games."
She blinked. "Games?"
"Anything. Board games, video games, silly challenges... You always found a way to make him laugh. You even..." he paused, testing her reaction, "...read tarot cards for him."
"Cards?" she echoed, her pulse quickening.
"Yeah," he said, his voice softening with memory. "You'd shuffle them with this strange confidence, like you were touching fate itself. He'd act like he didn't believe it, but he did. I could see it. He trusted you, even when he didn't say it."
A tremor ran through her hand. Tarot cards. The image surfaced like a half-remembered dream, colors, flickering candlelight, the faint scent of smoke. And then it slipped away again.
Later, her mother would tell her that she had burned those cards long ago. Burned them. But she couldn't remember when. Or why.
Kevin kept talking, his voice weaving fragments of laughter, stories, and quiet moments she could no longer touch. Every word painted a version of Richard that felt both intimate and foreign, a protector, a mystery, a man stitched together from memories she no longer owned.
Yet as he spoke, something inside her ached. As if her heart recognized what her mind refused to recall.
Why would she lock her memories away?
Why would she choose to forget him?
The thought struck like lightning, blinding, terrifying. What had happened between them that made her mind decide forgetting was safer than remembering?
Kevin's words blurred as her thoughts spiraled. Marriage wasn't a trivial thing, not in her world. It was a vow that bound souls, not just lives.
So why him? Why her? What could have driven Richard to marry a woman who now looked at him as if he were a stranger?
She closed her eyes. The air grew still, heavy. The distant hum of the city faded until there was nothing but silence, a silence so thick it pressed against her ribs, filling every corner of her chest. And in that silence, only one question remained.
What had she done to Richard, and what had he done to her, that her mind chose to bury him in darkness?