The Memory Keeper: Twisted Roots

Rain's POV

The moment our lips parted, reality came crashing back in.

The sound of distant laughter from the reception. The faint hum of the city. The cool night air brushing against my flushed skin.

But none of it was louder than the sound of my own heartbeat.

Her hand was still on my waist, fingers resting there like she belonged. Like she had every right to hold me like this after everything.

I looked into her eyes—hazel brown, deep and unreadable, searching for something I wasn't sure I was ready to find.

And there she was.

The woman I once fell in love with.

The woman I thought I had moved on from.

The reason why I kept second-guessing every decision in my life.

I swallowed, my throat dry, my mind screaming at me to walk away. To leave before I made another mistake.

But instead—

"Come with me."

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Khai blinked, startled, as if she wasn't sure she heard me right.

"Rain—" she started, but I shook my head.

"I don't know what this means, Khai." My voice wavered, but I didn't care. "I don't know what I'm doing. But right now, I just need—" I hesitated, my pulse hammering.

I just need you.

But I couldn't say that.

Not yet.

I took a step back, giving her the choice.

She could walk away. She could pretend this never happened.

Or—

Khai exhaled slowly, her gaze flickering with something unreadable. Then, without a word, she took my hand.

And just like that—

She chose me.

As we drove toward the outskirts of Jackson, the city lights faded into the distance, replaced by the quiet hum of the open road. I didn't want to think.

Not about tomorrow.
Not about the past.
Not about the consequences of what we were doing.

All I wanted was this. Her. Here. With me.

Khai's grip on my hand was firm, her fingers laced through mine as she drove, as if she was afraid that if she let go, I would disappear. I stared at our hands—at the way they fit together so naturally, so effortlessly, like nothing had changed. Like time and distance hadn't tried to tear us apart.

She glanced at me briefly, her hazel eyes soft in the dim light of the dashboard. "You okay?"

I nodded, but my chest ached.

Because I wasn't okay.
Because this was dangerous.
Because I knew I was running straight into something that would break me all over again.

But still, I held on.

Even if it was just for tonight.

We arrived at a small cabin nestled in the hills on the outskirts of Jackson. The drive had been quiet, heavy with unspoken words, but as soon as I stepped out of the car, the tension in my chest loosened. The view was breathtaking—city lights stretching endlessly, flickering like a sea of fireflies against the dark sky.