Demi
Anna’s worried, again. She doesn’t say it outright, but the way she lingers by the door, fingers twitching at the strap of her purse, says everything her lips don’t. She looks like she’s one deep sigh away from canceling work just to keep an eye on .
"Are you sure you’ll be fine here all day?" she asks for the third ti today in her usual, maternal voice.
I smile from the couch, clutching a throw pillow against my chest. "Anna, I’ll be fine. What other language do you want to tell you that?"
Her gaze softens but doesn’t move. "You’ve barely gone out in days. You should co with , even if it’s just for the drive. The walls can’t be that interesting."
"They’re not," I say lightly. "But I plan on being a couch potato for a while. Maybe I’ll finally convince my uncle to take away from here. He owes that much after abruptly canceling our trip."
Anna frowns, crossing her arms. "He did say it was urgent."
I snort at that. "Urgent enough to leave behind? He also said my recovery and safety were urgent, two reasons that spurred his decision to take away in the first place." I murmur, then puff out a sigh. "I can’t help but think he’s hiding sothing from . None of this makes sense." Snapping out of my thoughts, I force a smile at Anna. "Don’t worry. I’ll be fine by myself. Lucien’s probably lurking around sowhere, watching breathe from behind a tree."
Her lips twitch into a grin. "You make that sound like a bad thing. Being guarded by a breathtaking man like Lucien isn’t the worst fate in the world."
I shake my head. "You said the sa thing when I married Ashley."
The words slip out before I can stop them. Shit. I turn in ti to glimpse at Anna. She’s frozen over. The change in her expression is unmistakable; her eyes are wide, her parted lips, and there’s a flicker of sothing like hope.
"Demi..." she breathes. "You rember that?"
My heart stutters. "I..."
She drops her bag on the couch and rushes closer, crouching in front of with childish glee. "You rember, don’t you? Tell what else. What do you rember?"
I try to keep my expression neutral, but she looks so genuinely excited that guilt pricks my chest. I honestly can’t tell her how much I’ve rembered in the last few days. I’m not ready to swing back into the old Demi’s life.
So, I lie. "Bits and pieces," I say carefully. "The faces are still a blur but so conversations are seeping in... but it’s all mostly fuzzy, like trying to rember a dream after waking up."
The shine in her eyes doesn’t fade. "That’s still progress! At this rate, you’ll be back to your old self in no ti."
I force a smile. "Yeah... my old self."
Inside though, the words cut . What’s so wrong with the new ? Why can’t they just love the Demi who’s here, breathing, trying, instead of pining for the ghost of who I used to be?
Anna’s still grinning as she stands and brushes imaginary dust off her skirt. "You know, there’s a small book fair happening downtown, near Rahl’s bookstore. You used to love book fairs. You could stop by, spend ti flipping through old titles. Maybe it’ll help jog more mories faster than this couch."
I raise a brow. "You want to go to a book fair?"
"Why not? It’s a small event. Just book nerds and local sellers. No one of consequence will see you there if that’s what you’re worried about. If that doesn’t give you solace, then I have the perfect idea for a disguise."
Her tone is light, but I catch the underlying concern — no one who might recognize the truth of my mory loss.
I hesitate, then sigh. "Fine. Maybe I’ll check it out."
"That’s the spirit." She beams, grabbing her bag again. "It’ll be good for you to get so fresh air. And if you happen to stumble on one of your favorite authors’ stalls, all the better."
As she heads for the door, sothing tugs at . "Anna?" She pauses. "There’s a na that won’t leave my mind and I wondering if it’s soone you might recognize. Do you... know anyone nad Raz?"
Her brows knit together. "Raz? No. It’s not a na you’ve ever ntioned to in the past."
"Ok. I probably picked it up from a movie or sothing." I shrug lazily to ease her mind. She studies for a second longer, and thankfully lets it go.
"Okay. Call if you need anything."
"I will."
She leaves with one last worried glance. After an hour of boring TV, I opt to kill ti by attending the book fair. It’s got to be better than sitting at ho and constantly being forced to piece together strings of mories making their way into my head.
After showering, I stand before the window and peek through the blinds like a paranoid cat. The street is empty. There’s no sign of Lucien hiding in a car while pretending to not be watching . It’s just morning sunlight stretching lazily across the asphalt.
Still, the feeling doesn’t leave. Will I ever not feel the weight of invisible eyes watching ? I tell myself it’s fine, that I’m just imagining it as I brush my hair, half-dressed, trying to decide if I even want to go to spend ti at book fair.
The idea of being out among strangers makes my skin prickle, but Anna’s right. I can’t stay locked in here, hiding from the world forever. While my uncle is away, I have to figure out how to rebuild my life.
I’m halfway through buttoning my shirt when soone knocks on the door. Three sharp raps. I freeze. Lucien wouldn’t knock. He made it clear he’d be invisible, "a shadow, not a presence," as he’d phrased it with that teasing smirk. My uncle? No, he said he wouldn’t be back yet.
A cold knot forms in my stomach. The knock cos again, louder this ti. My heart races. Could it be... Ashton? The thought alone makes my breath hitch. But why would he be here after I ended things?
The next knock is so hard it startles into knocking a mug off the table. It shatters on the floor, and I curse under my breath, pressing a trembling hand to my chest.
Then a voice cuts through the door.
"Demi? I know you’re in there. Open up, dear. It’s Aunt Elizabeth and Kira. We just want to talk."
My blood runs cold. No. No, no, no.
***
I open the door only because the knocking won’t stop, and because I know she’ll attract the neighbors if I don’t. The mont the door swings open, Aunt Elizabeth and Kira sweep inside like they own the place. Kira’s sugary and suffocating perfu chokes the air. Sohow, it feels typical of them to not even wait for an invitation.
"Oh, Demi," Aunt Elizabeth coos. "I can’t believe Marcel didn’t even tell you had an accident. How are you dear? Your cousin and I were so worried!"
Kira nods, fake sympathy painted across her perfect face. "We didn’t even know, Demi. You should’ve told us, unless you still don’t consider us family."
I blink at them, still trying to process their sudden appearance. Their kindness feels too forced and rehearsed. I’m certain of this because just as my parents’ death feel raw, so does my aunt and Kira’s contempt for . It feels like years haven’t gone by. I rember their harsh words and harsher treatnt like it was last week so I don’t need my mories to sll the BS.
"I’m fine," I manage, stepping back. "It was a minor accident. Anna’s been taking great care of ."
That makes them both exchange a glance. The kind of glance that screams there it is.
Aunt Elizabeth sits gracefully on the couch, patting the seat beside her. "Co, sit, darling. We just want to make sure you’re alright."
Sothing in her tone prickles my skin, but I sit anyway, perching on the edge.
Her hand lands on mine, cold and deliberate. "You don’t have to worry anymore, Demi. If you move back in with us, things will be better. We’ll take care of you. At tis like this, it’s best to stick with family."
Kira hovers close behind her, smiling that saccharine smile that used to fool everyone, including . This ti, it just grates on my nerves.
"I appreciate it," I say, pulling my hand away. "But really, I’m fine here."
Aunt Elizabeth’s smile tightens. "Don’t pretend, sweetheart. We know about your condition."
The words make my heart plumt to my stomach. My throat also goes dry. "Condition?" I laugh nervously. "What condition? What are you talking about, aunt?"
Kira steps forward, eyes gleaming. "Don’t play dumb, Demi. We know you’ve lost your mories as a result of the accident."
My mind spins. I take a step back, wringing my hands. "That’s ridiculous. Why would you...who told you such a thing?"
Kira tilts her head. "Let’s just say my informant is reliable. Mom was right. I can tell sothing is off with you. The Demi we know would not have even opened that door to let us in. That’s how much she loathes us after...well, if you haven’t lost your mories, then I don’t have to tell you what went down between us." She gives a lopsided grin. "But if you claim we have it wrong, prove it! Tell which of the Rollins brothers I’ve always fancied the most."
I blink at her. "What?"
"Go on," she presses, folding her arms. "If you really rember everything, it shouldn’t be hard. Which of the quads do I dream of having his baby?"
My pulse thrums in my ears but I can’t show fear, not to them. Thankfully, this isn’t a mory I’ve lost.
I smile, feigning amusent. "That’s a trick question. You’ve always fancied ALL of them, Kira. You didn’t care which one you got your claws into, as long as his last na was Rollins."
Kira’s smirk falters. "That’s not true. It was Asher."
I shrug. "Yeah right. Could’ve fooled ." I turn toward the table and grab my phone. I need to dismiss them before they clue in on the cracks in my mory "I don’t have ti for this drama, aunt. Now, if you’ll excuse , I’m late for an appointnt." I add quickly as their stares drill into , "With Ashton."
Their eyes widen. Perfect. Let them chew on sothing believable.
"You’re really dating Ashton now? Wow Demi, way to go. I could never have pegged you as the chick that would divorce one brother and hop into the other’s bed in less than a month."
I grit my teeth at the disgusting thought. Did I really do that? I am equally disgusted at myself for being passed around brothers. How wild did I beco? Aunt Elizabeth nudges her daughter probably to keep from pissing off so they don’t get kicked out.
I start dialing Ashton’s number, mostly for show but because their eyes are glued to and it’s too late to bail, I actually press call. The line rings once before Aunt Elizabeth’s hand darts out, grabbing my phone.
"Demi, don’t mind your cousin. She’s still working on her foul tongue." she slides an angry stare at Kira who simply rolls her eyes. "We’re not here to judge you. We aren’t perfect ourselves." She says softly, her eyes glistening with compassion I simply doubt. "Co back with us. Let’s be a family again. Please."
Why the hell is she insisting on this? I yank my hand free. "I already told you I feel at ho here. Anna’s been kind to ."
Her face hardens. "Why did you collude with your uncle to leave Danvarr without telling us? Is that what I get after all I’ve done for you—" Her pretense disappears. "How ungrateful of you. Have you forgotten who took you in after your parents’ death? It sure wasn’t Marcel. He couldn’t be bothered to ruin his life by being saddled with an extra mouth to feed. I took you in though and worked tirelessly to feed, clothe and educate you. Yet, you want to run away before compensating fully for my support over the years? You certainly inherited such selfishness from your father’s side!"
That’s the last straw.
"ENOUGH!" I snap at her, eyes blazing. "Enough now. After all you’ve done for ? YOU’RE MY AUNT FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE! YOUR SISTER WAS MY MUM! Stop acting like I owe you sothing for taking in when my parents died when you’re my family and my blood. Would you expect Kira to compensate you for raising her? No, right? Then why ?"
Aunt Elizabeth flinches, sha flickering across her face. Kira looks away.
Tears sting my eyes as I continue, voice trembling but fierce. "I never planned to be a burden to you. I lost everything, aunt, and you reminded every day that I didn’t belong with you. It’s been hell on earth living under your roof and constantly missing my parents because of how badly you treated . Anna’s my friend but she’s always treated no less than a sister. She always cared for and never asked for anything in return. That’s what family should be like!"
The silence that follows feels thick enough to choke on. I swipe at my tears, holding my chin high. "Now, if you’ll excuse , I really am late."
I take my phone back from Aunt Elizabeth’s stunned hand and realize... Ashton’s still on the line. The faint sound of his breathing leaks through before I hang up. My stomach twists. How much did he hear?
"Please leave, both of you," I whisper, opening the door. Aunt Elizabeth and Kira leave in stiff silence. As I reach for the door to close it with my brave mask slipping, movent catches my eye. Lucien stands just beyond the threshold. He leans casually against the railing, hands in his pockets, sunlight gilding his sharp jawline. His presence fills the space like a calm breeze after a storm.
Before I rember to shut the door, he takes bold steps towards , backing into the house and shuts the door behind him with a quiet click.
***
"You look like you could use a friend." He says, curving his lips.
"I’m fine," I say quickly, brushing at my damp cheeks. "You shouldn’t be in here. Aren’t you supposed to be invisible or sothing?"
His accent wraps around his words like honey. It’s soft and lodic with a little tease. "Invisible, yes. But not deaf. I heard raised voices."
"I don’t need your pity."
He tilts his head, studying with an unreadable gaze I can’t stand. "Who said anything about pity?"
I fold my arms. "Then what are you doing here?"
"Offering you an ear. You look like soone who hasn’t had a real conversation in a long ti."
I laugh bitterly. "If mory serves right, that’s not part of your job description."
"Neither was listening," he says swiftly, "but I’m rather good at it. I observe well too."
There’s sothing disarming about the way he speaks; not flirtatious or commanding but just quietly sure of himself. His voice hums low and warm, like music that seeps into your bones.
"Fine," I cave. "So, what have you observed so far, Mr. Observer?"
He doesn’t hesitate. "You feel lost in your own skin. You hate that the people who claim to love you are more obsessed with the person you used to be than the woman standing in front of them. And you’re afraid..." His stare deepens with pity, "...afraid that when your mories co back, you won’t like the person you find."
My breath catches. No therapist has co this close to reading my mind so fast.
He steps closer, not enough to scare , but close enough that I can sll faint traces of his cologne — cedar and rain.
"You’re afraid," he continues softly, "that when you rember everything, you’ll have to face the guilt of not avenging your parents. That maybe, deep down, you think you don’t deserve peace until you do."
The hot tears co without warning.
"How do you—" My voice breaks. "How do you know that?"
Lucien’s expression softens. "Because I watch. And because I understand what it’s like to live with ghosts."
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. Then he opens his arms, not demanding, just offering, and I break. I fall against him, my forehead pressing into his chest. His hand cos up, slow and steady, stroking my hair as I sob.
"Easy," he murmurs. "It’s alright. Let it out."
His accent makes every word sound gentler, like a lullaby I didn’t know I needed. His touch is careful, respectful and grounding.
Through my blurry eyes, my world steadies and that’s when I see it. A shadow by the window. A figure standing still, then turning away.
Ashton?
My heart clenches. My fingers curl into Lucien’s shirt as another wave of tears hit . Lucien doesn’t budge. He just holds tighter like a quiet fortress against everything falling apart inside . For once, I stop fighting the comfort. I stop pretending I’m fine and let myself be vulnerable with him.
And as the door stays shut and my world trembles in his arms, one truth hums through .
I’ve never felt so seen.
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