Adrian did not sleep that weekend.
Every memory had returned with cruel clarity, not only the love but the hurt he had caused without knowing. The way Elara had stood at the hospital bed, silent and shattered. The way she had chosen to disappear so he could live freely. The way she had carried the blame alone.
By the next morning, his chest felt heavy with guilt.
At the office, he arrived earlier than usual. When Elara stepped in, he noticed it at once. The slight stiffness in her shoulders. The way her gaze slid past him instead of meeting his eyes. She greeted him formally, as if nothing had ever existed between them.
"Good morning, Mr. Vale."
The title cut deeper than he expected.
"Good morning," he replied, his voice restrained. "Come to my office later. I need to speak with you."
Her fingers tightened around the file she was holding. "Of course."
When she returned later, she stood near the door instead of coming closer. Adrian watched her carefully. She looked calm, composed and professional. Too composed.
"Elara," he began, choosing his words with care. "I remember everything now."
Her breath caught despite her effort to remain steady.
"I remember our time together. I remember loving you. I remember leaving for surgery and coming back to you. And I remember the accident."
She lowered her eyes.
"I also remember waking up and asking for Luna," he continued. "And I remember the look on your face. I did not understand it then. I do now."
Silence stretched between them.
"I am sorry," he said quietly. "For all of it. For the pain I caused you. For making you feel invisible. For letting you carry the blame alone."
Her hands trembled faintly at her sides.
"I left," she said, her voice tight. "I left without telling you the truth. I decided everything for you. I do not deserve forgiveness."
"Elara," he said, softer now. "I understand you were trying to protect me."
She shook her head, stepping back. "I'm sorry. I still couldn't face you for what I do. You are just my boss now. We should keep things clear."
"Clear," he repeated. "Is that really what you want?"
She did not answer.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The words he had said hung in the air, heavy and unfinished, but she did not allow herself to reach for them.
Elara drew in a steady breath and straightened her back.
"Mr. Vale," she said at last, her tone carefully composed, "if there is nothing work related, I should return to my desk."
His eyes searched her face, as if looking for any crack in the wall she had raised again. He did not find one.
"All right," he said quietly.
She nodded once, a polite, professional gesture, then turned and walked toward the door.
When the door closed behind her, Elara paused only long enough to steady her breathing. Her heart was still pounding, her chest tight with everything she had not said, but she pressed it down the way she always did.
She returned to her desk, sat down, and turned on her computer.
*****
That night, Elara lay awake, staring into the dark.
She knew Adrian remembered now. She knew he was trying. And that made everything worse.
Because if he hated her, it would have been easier.
But his kindness only deepened her guilt. Every gentle word reminded her of the choice she had made. Every step closer he took reminded her of what she had destroyed.
She told herself distance was necessary.
Yet her heart ached every time she imagined him reaching for her and stopping himself.
And Adrian, lying awake in his own bed, realized something frightening.
Losing his memory had been painful.
But remembering and not being able to reach her was worse.
*****
For days Adrian had tried patience. He had given her space, spoken carefully, respected every boundary she placed between them. And every day, the distance only grew wider.
By the end of the week, he could not bear it anymore.
That afternoon, as Elara finished organizing the files from the last meeting, Adrian appeared beside her desk.
"Elara," he said quietly. "Come with me."
She looked up, startled. "Mr. Vale, if this is about work, I can email you the summary."
"It is not about work," he replied.
Her chest tightened. "Then please let it wait."
"No," he said firmly. "Not this time."
The calm resolve in his voice left her no room to refuse. She followed him into his office. The moment the door closed, the air between them felt too heavy to breathe through.
She stood near the door again, hands clasped in front of her like armor.
"You have been avoiding me," Adrian said.
She did not deny it. "I am doing my job."
"That is not an answer."
She lowered her gaze. "It is the only one I can give."
Adrian stepped closer, not enough to touch her, but close enough that she could feel his presence. His voice softened, but the intensity did not fade.
"I remember everything," he said. "I remember loving you. I remember how safe I felt with you. And I remember waking up and breaking you without knowing it."
Her breath hitched.
"I have apologized," he continued. "I have tried to make this right. But you keep pushing me away as if I am the one who should leave."
She clenched her fists. "You do not understand."
"Then make me understand," he said. "Because I will not accept this distance anymore."
Her composure finally cracked.
"I thought I had ruined your life when you had that accident," she went on. "And when you asked for Luna, I told myself that I should leave. So I left and erased myself from your life. I thought that was the only way to give you a future."
Her eyes filled with tears she could no longer stop.
"And when I came back and saw you cold and angry and still unhappy, I realized I might have been wrong. But by then it was too late. If you remembered and hated me, I did not know if I could survive that."
Adrian's chest tightened painfully.
"You should have let me choose," he said quietly.
"I was afraid," she whispered. "Afraid you would look at me and see the woman who abandoned you."
He took another step forward.
"Elara," he said, voice low and steady. "I never hated you. Even without my memories, something in me kept reaching for you. Do you think that happens by accident."
She shook her head, tears spilling freely now.
"I cannot forgive myself," she said. "Every time I look at you, I remember the life we almost had. And I remember being the one who walked away."
Adrian reached out then, cupping her face gently, forcing her to look at him.
"Listen to me," he said. "You did not leave me. You loved me in the only way you knew how. And I am here now, choosing you again."
She let out a broken sob. "What if you regret it."
"I regret every day without you," he replied.
Her knees weakened, and she sagged forward. Adrian caught her instantly, arms wrapping around her as if he had done it a thousand times before.
She cried into his chest, gripping his shirt like she was afraid he would disappear.
"I am sorry," she sobbed. "I am so sorry."
He held her tighter. "Stop carrying this alone," he murmured. "Let me share it with you."
Slowly, her crying softened. Her breathing steadied against him.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were red, her expression vulnerable and honest.
"I am scared," she admitted.
"So am I," Adrian said. "But I am not walking away again. And neither are you."
Adrian did not let go of her right away.
He waited until her breathing steadied, until the tension in her shoulders eased, until she stopped clinging to him like she might fall apart if she released her grip. Only then did he lift one hand and brush his thumb carefully beneath her eye, wiping away the last trace of tears.
"Elara," he said softly. "Look at me."
She hesitated, then slowly raised her gaze. Her eyes were still wet, still uncertain, but open.
"I am not here to blame you," he continued. "I am here because I love you. That has not changed. Not even after everything."
He leaned closer, close enough that she could feel his breath. He then bent his head and kissed her.
This time there was no urgency, no confusion, no desperate hunger like the kiss in the car. It was slow and deliberate, as if he was giving her time to pull away if she wanted to.
She did not.
Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt the familiar warmth of his lips, steady and sure. The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, as if he was reminding her of something she had forgotten.
Adrian had always loved her.
Her hands lifted hesitantly, then rested against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm, strong and calm.
When he pulled back slightly, he did not let go of her. His forehead rested against hers.
"I keep replaying that day in my head," she whispered. "I keep thinking that if I had stayed, if I had told you the truth, everything would have been easier."
He shook his head gently. "Maybe. Or maybe it would have been harder. We will never know. What I do know is that you made the best choice you could with the heart you had then."
She swallowed.
"I do not know how to forgive myself," she admitted.
"You do not have to do it all at once," Adrian said. "Just start by letting me stay."
Her chest tightened at the simplicity of it.
She nodded slowly.
"I want to try," she said. "I am still scared. But I do not want to keep running."
"That is enough," he replied.
He kissed her again, softer this time, as if sealing a promise rather than asking for more. When he pulled away, his hands remained steady at her waist, grounding her.
Elara's fingers curled slightly against his shirt, as if confirming he was real, that he was still there. The tension in her shoulders eased little by little. She had spent so long bracing herself for loss that the idea of being allowed to stay felt almost unreal.
Adrian lifted one hand and brushed his thumb lightly along her cheek. The touch was gentle, careful, as though he was relearning her all over again. Her eyes fluttered shut at the familiarity of it, and a quiet sound escaped her before she could stop it.
"I used to think," she said softly, "that loving someone meant choosing for them. I thought if I disappeared, you would be happier."
"And I spent all this time feeling empty without knowing why," he replied. "We both suffered for the same mistake."
She opened her eyes and looked at him then, really looked at him. The anger she had feared was not there. What she saw instead was understanding, and something steadier than forgiveness.
"I do not want to lose you again," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"This time round I am not letting you slipping away from me" he said without hesitation.
Her lips trembled into a small, fragile smile. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his shoulder this time, letting herself rest there. He wrapped his arms around her fully.