Ethan
The city stretched before Ethan, its skyline glittering like a thousand promises he never quite believed in. He adjusted his tie, more out of habit than necessity, staring at the lights that seemed to echo the emptiness inside him. At thirty years old, he was at the helm of one of the largest companies in the Dominion. On paper, he had it all—the success, the stature. But beneath it all, there was an ever-present gnawing sense of incompleteness, a shadow trailing him even in his brightest moments.
The creak of the office door broke his reverie. He didn't need to turn around to know it was Rowan; his footsteps were as familiar as breathing. They had been friends since childhood, inseparable through every phase of their lives. Now, Rowan was not just his closest friend but also the General Manager of the company Ethan led.
"You've got solid numbers for last quarter," Rowan said, dropping a thick folder onto Ethan's desk.
"Good. Leave it there," Ethan replied, his voice clipped but steady. Rowan lingered, studying him like he was trying to solve a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out.
"You've been awake since dawn," Rowan remarked, his tone deceptively casual, though the concern was unmistakable.
"I'm fine," Ethan cut in—not harsh, but final enough that Rowan didn't push further. He raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge, but let it go for now.
A few moments later, Aria entered the office, her soft, rhythmic steps cutting through the quiet. Rowan's younger sister had always been a grounding presence in Ethan's life, a force of warmth amid the sharp edges of his world. She set a steaming mug on his desk, her movements deliberate, calm.
"I thought you might need this," she said simply.
Ethan met her gaze briefly, something about her ease forcing him to hold the moment longer than he expected. "Thanks," he murmured.
"You're welcome," she replied, her voice carrying the effortless kindness he had never quite managed to replicate.
Cass entered next, tablet in hand, her expression sharp and focused. "We're tracking growth in the East," she announced without preamble, her hazel eyes flickering with efficiency. Like Rowan and Aria, Cass had been part of Ethan's life for years. These were the people he trusted, the people who understood him—but today, their presence felt suffocating. He needed space.
"Anything else?" Ethan asked, maintaining the professional detachment they were all accustomed to. They knew it wasn't personal.
Aria lingered just a touch longer, slipping her voice into the space Cass's directness left behind. "Just wanted to make sure you aren't going to collapse on me midway through this meeting."
The smallest flicker of a smile ghosted across Ethan's lips before he masked it. "I'll survive," he replied evenly.
Rowan finally closed the door behind them, their voices fading as the silence reclaimed the room. Alone again, Ethan tucked his hands into his pockets and gazed back out at the skyline, wondering when—or if—this lingering emptiness would ever let him go.
Aria
The elevator doors slid shut behind Aria, sealing her inside with Rowan and Cass. She shifted her grip on her tablet, hugging it tighter to her chest as silence settled around them. Rowan stood against the wall, arms crossed, staring at some distant point. Cass studied the floor display, her expression unreadable. No one spoke, but the weight of unspoken words hung thick in the air.
Aria finally broke the silence. "He's still not sleeping," she murmured, glancing between them. "You saw it, didn't you? The shadows under his eyes, the way he zones out in the middle of conversations."
Cass nodded, her hazel eyes flickering with concern. "It's getting worse. He's distracted during meetings. His focus isn't the same—it's not sharp like it used to be."
Aria tightened her hold on the tablet. "It's the nightmares again, isn't it? Same as before."
Rowan's voice was steady, but the way he shifted against the wall told Aria he was bracing himself. "It always is. He tries to hide it, but it's there. I see it every time he looks away, like he's chasing something—or someone—only he can see."
Aria's breath hitched slightly before she exhaled. "Luelle."
The name hung in the air, fragile, almost sacred. They rarely said it aloud—saying it felt like crossing into forbidden territory, disturbing a balance they all worked so hard to protect.
"You think that's why?" Cass's voice softened. "The nightmares? Because of her?"
Aria nodded. "She saved him," she said, steady despite the weight pressing on her chest. "She knew what she was doing when she stepped into the sniper's path. But sometimes I wonder... how? How did she see the sniper when none of us did? It's like she was always one step ahead. Like she was watching over him."
Memories flashed in her mind—the sterile hospital walls, the doctor's solemn expression. We did everything we could. Ethan had shattered under those words, collapsing under a weight none of them could lift.
"He doesn't even remember her," Cass murmured.
"No," Aria agreed, shaking her head. "His mind locked her away, protecting him from the grief. He remembers tutoring her, vaguely, but she's just a blur now."
Rowan frowned. "Then why the nightmares? Why is she still haunting him after all these years?"
"Because his heart remembers," Aria whispered. "Even if his mind doesn't, his heart knows. He loved her, Rowan. Even if he didn't understand it back then, he did. And now, he's left chasing fragments of a loss he can't name but feels every second of his waking life."
Cass tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, her frown deepening. "You really think that's why? Why he keeps chasing her in his dreams?"
Aria nodded, looking down at the tablet in her arms. "Part of him knows what she did for him. What he lost before he even had the chance to tell her how he felt. He's still carrying the weight of her sacrifice, even if he doesn't realize it."
The elevator chimed softly, and the doors slid open. They stepped out into the corridor, but the echoes of their conversation clung to them like ghosts. Aria glanced at Rowan and Cass as they walked side by side, their hands brushing—a quiet reminder of their bond, their ability to find strength in each other.
Thirteen years. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the memory was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.
"I can't believe it's been that long," she murmured. "Feels like just yesterday we were waiting in that hospital, praying for a miracle. And now... here we are. Rowan running operations, Cass mapping out strategies, James holding down PR like he was born for it. And Ethan..." Her voice faltered, catching on the truth she didn't want to say.
Rowan finished it for her. "He's exactly where the Dominion wanted him to be."
Aria nodded, the ache in her chest deepening. "But he's not whole."
Cass's voice was barely a whisper. "Do you think he'll ever remember her?"
Aria slowed her steps, lost in thought. She remembered Luelle's mother, the weight of her words, the heartbreak in her eyes.
"I don't know," she admitted finally.
"Part of me hopes he doesn't." She hesitated, her voice breaking slightly. "Because if he ever does... it might break him all over again."
They walked on, the corridor stretching ahead, but Luelle's sacrifice, Ethan's grief, and their shared memories followed silently in their wake.