25. I’m pretty sure I never had it this good.”
"I’m pretty sure I never had it this good.”
Aria
It’s like all the pieces of my life have finally fallen into place, and I’ve never been so at ease.
When I open my eyes the next morning, I linger on my pillow, remembering last night’s events—the birthday party, the kiss—and realizing how amazing my life is.
I breathe in the scent of the lily candle, like I do every morning since the day I bought it, and the comforting scent puts a smile on my face.
I brush my teeth with extra vigor, knowing I’m going to kiss Caleb again very soon. Butterflies take flight in my belly, and I enjoy the feeling fo r a little while before stepping into the shower.
I close my eyes as the water cascades over my back, but I don’t want to stay here too long.
Caleb has practice this morning, and I’d hate to miss him before he leaves.
I pump some shower gel into my palm and start by washing my legs.
A flash of pain shoots through my mind as I move my hand over the scar on my knee.
I’m six years old, at a playground near my house.
It’s a beautiful day. I can almost hear the sound of my sneakers hitting the pavement, the laughter of the other kids ringing in my ears.
As I’m running, the rush of wind tousling my hair, I trip—scraping my knee on the gravel.
My hands reach for the ground as tears start to form.
I clench my eyes shut, pushing the memory away. The playground dissolves, and I’m back in the shower, my safe space.
Turning off the water, I hold on to the wall for support while trying to steady my breathing. What was that all about? This is wrong. So wrong. I should want to remember, but I blocked it out. Why do I feel like I don’t want to know?
Because you don’t, a small voice in my head whispers. Because you have everything you need here.
I swallow hard, trying to clear m y mind, then finish my shower before getting dressed and joining Caleb downstairs.
As I anticipated, he’s busy making breakfast, humming one of the songs we danced to last night.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says when I enter the kitchen.
I force a smile and walk up to him. As soon as he brings me into a hug, my anxieties melt away. “Hey, yourself. Thanks for making breakfast.”
He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear and kisses me.
It’s a soft, lingering kiss, the kind that feels like it’s over too soon, but in the best way.
There’s a sweetness to it—like he’s savoring the moment just as much as I am.
The touch of his lips is gentle, but it holds all the unspoken things I’m feeling, things that make my heart flutter as his mouth moves with mine.
He pulls away, just far enough to look into my eyes. “I meant what I said yesterday. I don’t mind cooking for you.”
A smile stretches across my face. What did I do to deserve such a sweet man?
Once Caleb is out the door, I gra b my digital notebook and start writing.
I’ve already received three messages from the girls in our group chat, urging me to send them what I have so far, but I want to add a little something to the story.
I spend most of the morning writing, then reread the draft a few times before finally gathering the courage to send them the file.
Hopefully, it’s not so bad that they won’t have anything to say about it.
I’m running late for my session with Dr. Stuart, so I hurry out the door and jog to his office. Thankfully, his previous patient is just leaving as I enter.
“Good afternoon, Aria,” he says with his usual tranquility. “How are you today?”
“Hi, Dr. Stuart. I’m good.”
I take my seat and wait for him to grab his pen and notebook.
“How was your Christmas?” he asks.
I take a deep breath. “Honestly, it was great. Caleb took me to his parents’ house, and we had a lovely time. I’ll admit, it was kind of weird, intruding on their family time, but I was grateful to be there.”
“Did you encounter anything fam iliar, like the lily? Have you smelled that scent again?”
“I actually bought a lily-scented candle,” I say. “So, almost every day, but aside from that sense of comfort, nothing has come to mind. One of the throw blankets at Caleb’s parents’ house seemed familiar too, and I felt something weird when a friend said the word ‘dawn’ yesterday.”
“That’s wonderful progress. It looks like your brain is opening up more and more. What exactly did you feel when you heard the word ‘dawn’? What does ‘weird’ look like to you?”
I gnaw at my bottom lip. “I don’t know. Familiar, but also like it carried a lot of weight.”
“Was it a good feeling?”
“Not really,” I admit.
“Anything else?” he asks, studying me.
I open my mouth, then close it. What would he think of me if I told him what happened this morning? No sane person would suppress their memories. Then again, he is my therapist. Maybe there’s something seriously wrong with me, and he can help.
“You can tell me anything,” he reassures me. “I will not judge you, Aria. This is your process, and you’re moving at your own pace.”
I take a deep breath and gaze out the window.
“I have this scar on my knee. I see it every day when I wash myself, but this morning, something happened.” I swallow, wetting my dry throat.
“A memory resurfaced. I was in a playground. It was close to my house, but I couldn’t see it.
There were other kids around, and I was happy, carefree.
As I was running, I fell and hurt my knee. It bled out badly, and I cried.”
“What happened next?” he asks, still scribbling in his notebook.
“Nothing. I blocked it out.”
He frowns in confusion. “You mean you couldn’t remember the rest?”
“No. I probably would have,” I say, wringing my hands. “But I didn’t want to. I blocked it out on purpose.” I pause, my stomach clenching. “What does that mean? Am I crazy?”
He holds me with his gaze, his eyes steady and reassuring. “It’s not unusual for patients in your situation not to want to remember once they start building a new life.”
“I kissed Caleb yesterday,” I blurt out, and my cheeks catch fire. Does my therapist really need to know that? “And, well, he kissed me back.”
“Are you happy about that?”
“I am.” I can’t help but sm ile. “I’ve been crushing on him for a while.
I know you’re going to say it’s not a healthy relationship because he doesn’t even know the real me, and we have this weird co-living situation, but nothing has ever felt this good.
And in a way, he does know me. He knows the me that exists now. Isn’t that what matters?”
“It does matter,” he says with a resolute nod.
“And for the record, I wasn’t going to say it’s an unhealthy situation.
You’re both in this circumstance knowingly, so why would it be unhealthy?
” He pauses, crossing his legs. “That being said, it’s still important to know who you were and where you come from, Aria.
Blocking out your memories will not help with that.
If they want to come back, they will, and I encourage you to embrace them. ”
“But what if my life sucks?” I say, almost pleading. “The life I’m building here is perfect. And I know it sounds weird, but I’m pretty sure I never had it this good.”
He smiles softly. “Knowing your past doesn’t have to change that. You’re in control of your life, your future. You can decide to leave behind the old you and start over, but you owe it to yourself to remember. And you owe it to your potential loved ones too.”
My stomach constricts. He’s right. I’ve been incredibly selfish, distancing myself from my past. I might have everything I need here, but what if there are people out there devastated over my disappearance? I can’t just ignore that. No matter how much it might hurt when the truth comes out.