Sunlight spilled through the curtains, warm and golden, casting soft rays across the ceiling. Nova blinked slowly, her eyes adjusting to the light. The bed felt familiar. The room smelled like lavender and something sweeter she couldn’t name. Her fingers reached instinctively across the mattress—and found him. Luca.
He was sitting beside her, his head tilted forward, eyes closed as if he’d only just dozed off. He looked different like this. Tired. Older. She reached out and touched his hand, and he jolted gently awake.
"Hey," she said softly.
"Good morning," Luca smiled. "I didn’t mean to fall asleep."
"You’re always here," she murmured. "Like a nurse. Or a shadow. Don’t you have meetings to run, empires to build?"
He chuckled, though it sounded tight in his throat. "Empires can wait. You can’t."
Nova leaned back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. She felt safe. That’s what mattered. But her mind was slower these days—sluggish, like wading through wet sand. Some mornings she woke up remembering everything with painful clarity. Others… she forgot why she was in bed at all.
Luca reached over to the nightstand and handed her a cup of tea. The scent hit her instantly. Jasmine and honey.
"Just how you like it," he said.
She frowned, puzzled. "Do I always drink it like this?"
"You used to insist on it," he said gently. "Wouldn’t take it any other way."
Nova laughed lightly. "You sound like you know me."
"I do."
She sipped the tea and closed her eyes. For a moment, it was quiet. Peaceful. Until a thought surfaced—bright and sharp. She opened her eyes again and turned to him.
"You wore a navy tie that day," she said.
Luca blinked. "What day?"
"Our wedding day. Everyone wore black and gray, but you... you wore navy."
He stared at her, stunned. For a second, he couldn’t speak. Then he nodded, voice thick. "Yes. I did."
"It matched your eyes better," she added, then laughed. "I made fun of you for it. Called you arrogant for trying to outshine the groom. But I liked it."
"I'm glad you remember that."
She turned to look at him. "Sometimes I remember too much. And sometimes... too little."
He reached over, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned into his touch like she always had.
"Where’s Alex?" she asked suddenly. "Did she eat already? Is she at school?"
Luca hesitated. "She’s... not in school anymore, love. She’s at work now. With the company."
Nova frowned, her brows knitting. "Oh. Right." She stirred her tea, embarrassed. "Of course."
Each time she'd forget something, it felt like a battle lost. And each battle lost felt like a step closer to losing the whole war. A war she knew she wouldn't win anyway—just wanted to make her fight last longer, at least.
"You’re allowed to forget sometimes," he said softly.
"But I don’t want to." She tried to laugh, but her voice cracked. "God, Luca. I used to be so sharp. So in control. I could read ten documents a day and write five more."
"You still can, if you want."
"Don’t lie to me," she said. Not cruelly. Just honest. "I forget how to use the microwave sometimes."
Luca didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
She pushed back the blanket and sat up, her legs weak but determined. He was instantly at her side, offering an arm. She took it, even though she hated needing help. Together, they walked slowly through the hallway, past the photos on the wall.
Nova stopped in front of one.
It was a picture of Alex as a child—maybe six or seven—grinning with front teeth missing, holding a trophy taller than her. Nova tilted her head.
"My sister?" she asked.
Luca's grip tightened gently. "That’s Alex, darling. When she won her first chess tournament."
"She was that little?"
"You were so proud. You carried that photo everywhere."
Nova reached up to touch the frame, eyes soft. "She looks like you."
"You always say that. But she’s all you."
They walked to the kitchen next. Lunch had already been prepared by the staff, but Nova insisted on sitting at the table like she always did. Luca helped her into her chair. She picked up the fork, then paused. It felt wrong in her hand. Backwards. She turned it around a few times, trying not to look confused.
After a moment, she laughed, placing it down.
"I forgot how to use this thing for a second," she said. "God, I’m ridiculous."
"You’re not ridiculous." Luca picked up his own fork and made a show of holding it upside down. "I get confused too."
Nova smiled, grateful.
They ate in silence for a while, the quiet only broken by the occasional clink of silverware. Afterward, they returned to the living room. Luca sat on the couch, and she curled up beside him like she used to when they were young. Her head rested against his shoulder, her hand over his heart.
"You always smell like cedarwood," she whispered.
"That’s because you made me switch colognes ten years ago."
"I have good taste," she said.
"You do."
The television was on, but neither of them paid attention. Nova stared at the flickering screen without watching it. Her mind drifted. So many names. Faces. Memories half-submerged, like stones under murky water.
She didn’t know how long she had. No one really did. But there was a part of her that understood this wasn’t something she’d win. Not this time.
She turned her face up to him.
"I don’t want to forget you," she said.
Luca didn't speak. He just brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
"You won’t," he said. "Not really."
And even though they both knew it was a lie, she smiled anyway.