Chapter 61
Chapter 61 (Alex’s POV)
She was slipping.
And I couldn’t stop it.
The world around us cracked, shimmered, trembled like glass under heat. The train faded into mist. The apartment door disappeared. The lake—the one we had picnicked beside in some lost summer—vanished like a dream I couldn’t remember fast enough.
She held my hand tighter, but her body was flickering in and out.
I could barely breathe.
“Nell!” I yelled into the space.
She was still beside me, but not fully. Her eyes weren’t focused anymore. Her breath came in shallow gasps. She was slipping back into the dark.
The bridge was breaking.
“Stay with me!” I begged. “Please!”
\---
Outside, I could hear faint echoes—Rick shouting, Cross’s voice giving instructions. Monitors beeping.
None of that mattered.
Only her.
I cupped her face in my hands. “You have to remember,” I whispered. “You’re Eleanor Hayes. You used to make me tea even when you hated the taste. You used to leave sticky notes on the fridge saying things like ‘Don’t forget you love me.’”
Her eyelids fluttered.
“You once cried over a cartoon elephant. You loved late-night walks. You had a tiny scar on your elbow from falling off your bike.”
She blinked.
“I kissed it once. You told me it didn’t hurt—but I knew you were lying.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“Please, Nell. Come back.”
\---
The space around us was nothing now. Just gray.
Empty.
I reached deeper.
Pulled out more.
“Remember the time we got locked out of our building and you danced with me in the rain?”
A memory flickered—then formed.
It built itself like light—dim, then bright.
There we were: young, soaked to the bone, spinning in the rain under the streetlamp. Laughing like fools.
She gasped.
“I—remember that,” she whispered. “You held me.”
“Yes.”
“I wore your hoodie.”
I nodded, heart thudding.
“You told me it was your favorite night,” she added quietly.
“It still is,” I said.
She smiled.
The first real one.
The gray peeled back slightly.
\---
I took her hand and led her through the clearing memory. Each step we took, more came to life. The alleyway. The broken umbrella. Her soaked hair. The puddles.
Another memory snapped into place—our old kitchen.
“You used to hum that song while baking,” I reminded her.
“I burned everything.”
“You made me eat it anyway.”
She laughed softly.
The space warmed.
We were building again.
Her hand felt solid in mine.
“I remember your cologne,” she whispered.
“You made me switch it three times.”
“You always smelled like safety.”
I swallowed.
But then—
\---
A wave of nausea hit me.
Hard.
I stumbled.
Her hand tightened around mine.
“Alex?”
“I’m okay,” I lied.
I wasn’t.
Outside the bridge, I could feel my body shuddering. Cold. My breath uneven. The connection was pulling from me—harder and faster than expected.
“She’s absorbing your memories,” Cross had warned. “If the sync becomes one-sided, she may take in more than she should.”
I didn’t care.
Let her take it all.
If it meant saving her, she could have every piece of me.
\---
We kept walking through the places we made together.
The bookstore.
The hill where we watched fireworks.
The tiny apartment with the broken faucet.
With every step, she remembered more.
Her voice grew stronger.
Her eyes clearer.
But the pressure on me increased.
Headache. Dizziness. Shortness of breath.
I ignored it.
We sat on the bench from our first date.
“You made me wait forty-five minutes,” she said.
“I was nervous,” I admitted.
“You wore a blue shirt.”
“You told me it made me look soft.”
“You were soft.”
I chuckled.
“You still are.”
\---
Her fingers brushed my jaw.
She looked at me—not like she was trying to remember, but like she already had.
“I was in love with you,” she said.
“You still are.”
She nodded slowly.
“But what if I forget again?” she asked quietly.
“Then I’ll bring you back again,” I said. “As many times as it takes.”
She closed her eyes.
Breathed in.
“I think I’m ready,” she whispered. “To wake up.”
The world around us trembled—not in fear, but release.
The bridge was beginning to fade.
The mission complete.
\---
Outside, I felt the room surge. Lights flashing. Cross’s voice sharper. Langston calling out vitals. Rick at my side.
“Pulse spiking! Her heart rate’s stabilizing!”
My head spun. I dropped to my knees.
I could feel her leaving the bridge.
Cross yelled, “Pull him out! Now!”
\---
In the real world, I opened my eyes slowly.
Everything was too bright.
Pain. Cold. Pressure in my chest.
Hands were on me.
Rick’s voice: “He’s awake!”
But I didn’t look at them.
I looked at her.
She was still.
Eyes closed.
Too still.
Then—
Her eyelashes fluttered.
She blinked.
Her gaze scanned the ceiling.
Then turned.
Found mine.
She frowned. Like she wasn’t sure. Then slowly—slowly—her mouth opened.
And she whispered:
“You never stopped loving me, did you?”