A week had passed since Kiara returned to India, to her family, to the haveli that held more of her than she'd realized when she first walked back through its gates.

In that week, more memory had come back to her than in all the years before it combined. The house itself seemed to be doing something no photograph or explanation had managed  every hallway, every room, every worn step on the old staircase pulled loose some small fragment of memory she hadn't known was still there, buried under five years of a different life entirely.

It was happening in order, she'd noticed, almost like her mind was rebuilding itself the same way it had been built the first time. Childhood first. A game she used to play in the courtyard. The exact creak of a particular door. The smell of her mother's perfume drifts through the hallway on certain mornings.

She told Donato about it, this strange, hopeful pattern that maybe if she simply stayed here, kept returning to the places tied to each version of herself, the rest of it would eventually follow, layer by layer, until she'd built her way back to the woman she used to be.

But not every memory that surfaced came gently. Alongside the soft, recoverable pieces of her childhood, something else had started arriving too something that came at night, uninvited, and left her shaking awake before dawn.

It always began the same way. A house, unfamiliar and yet somehow known. A woman's voice, screaming, though Kiara could never make out the words, never see a face attached to it. Then the sound of a gunshot, sharp and sudden, cutting the scream off mid-breath.

And then blood she never saw whose, never understood the scene well enough to place herself inside it, only that it was there, spreading, and that some part of her, even asleep, understood she was looking at something that had actually happened, not something her mind had invented.

It came almost every night now, ever since the memories tied to this place had started returning in earnest. She told herself it was just a nightmare at first, some stress response to everything she was relearning about her own life. But it didn't behave like an ordinary nightmare.

It didn't fade the way dreams usually did once she woke. It stayed with her through the whole next day, sharp-edged and specific in a way pure imagination rarely managed, and each time it returned, small new details attached themselves to it  a window, a particular color on the wall, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

Alongside it, other things had started coming back too  softer things, easier to hold. The exact moment she'd first realized she was falling for Donato. A specific afternoon, a specific look he'd given her that had undone something in her chest. Those memories she welcomed, turned over gladly, grateful for every one of them.

But the nightmare always came back attached to something, riding in on the same nights as the good memories, like the two were somehow tangled together at the root. She couldn't tell if it was something that had actually happened to her, some fragment of the past nobody had told her about yet, or if it was simply her mind's way of processing everything else that had been done to her the accusations, the hospital, the isolation.

Every day she tried to sit with it longer, to push past the blur and see the rest of the scene clearly. And every time, all she got for her effort was the same handful of disjointed pieces  the house, the scream, the gunshot, the blood and then, without fail, a headache sharp enough to force her to stop trying, her mind seeming to physically resist whatever lay just beyond what she could already see.

________

Its a another Chaotic day in rajput heveli everyone is seated in the leaving room having their time. none of them had known Aravi was coming.

Donato had told his family to wait  that he'd come home with Kiara and Aria as soon as things were settled, that pushing now would only make everything harder for a woman still relearning who she used to be. And the family had agreed, or seemed to, holding themselves back in Italy while everyone waited for word.

But Aravi hadn't been able to hold herself back aftier all. She'd spent five years grieving a daughter-in-law she'd loved like her own, and now that daughter-in-law was alive, a granddaughter existed that she'd never once been allowed to hold, and no amount of patience left in her could survive waiting any longer for someone else's timeline. So she'd simply booked the flight and come.

The Rajputs were all gathered in the main hall when she walked in  an ordinary afternoon, everyone scattered across the room in easy conversation, Donato sprawled on the floor with Aria and Elora, mid-tickle-fight, Aria's laughter ringing out loud enough to carry across the hall.

Then Aravi stepped through the archway, and the room went still.

Kavya spotted her first. "Mom?" she whispered, half out of her seat before she'd even fully processed what she was seeing, disbelief written plainly across her face. Donato froze mid-motion, hand still hovering over Aria's side, staring at his mother like he genuinely couldn't reconcile her standing there in the Rajput haveli with anything he'd planned for.

But Aravi wasn't what actually knocked the air out of the room. Behind her stood three more people nobody had expected at all  Elana, Enzo, and between them, holding his father's hand, their son Elian.

The little boy spotted Donato almost instantly, and before anyone could stop him, he let go of Enzo's hand and took off running across the hall, shouting his uncle's name at the top of his lungs, and crashed straight into Donato's side, wrapping both arms around him in a hug that nearly knocked him sideways.

Aria, who a second earlier had been shrieking with laughter under her father's tickling hands, went completely still. Her smile vanished.

She watched this small boy  this stranger  wrap himself around her dad, hugging him the exact way she hugged him, in the exact spot she'd been sitting in not thirty seconds ago, and something hot and instant flared up in her chest that she had absolutely no name for yet, only the overwhelming urge to do something about it immediately.

"Leave That's my dad," she announced, loud, scrambling upright.

Elian pulled back from the hug just enough to look at her, entirely unbothered. "No, that's my uncle dada."

"He's not your uncle dada, he's my dad." Aria's hands had already found her hips.

"He's both," Enzo cut in quickly, already crossing the room with the particular speed of a man who could sense a diplomatic incident forming in real time. "Aria, baby, this is Elian, remember?  i told you about him in scanno. Auntie Elana and Uncle Enzo's son. He's your cousin."

"He can't hug my dad like that," Aria said, entirely unmoved by the explanation, glaring at Elian with the full force of a four-almost-five-year-old defending sacred territory.

"He's my uncle dada, I can hug him howevel I want," Elian shot back, apparently equally unwilling to concede an inch, still gripping a fistful of Donato's shirt.

"He's mine."

"He's my uncle."

"He's my dad."

Donato, caught directly between the two of them, looked up helplessly at Kiara, who had one hand pressed over her mouth trying not to laugh, and at Enzo, who was very clearly not even trying to hide his amusement.

"Okay, okay." Donato pried Elian gently off his side and reached for Aria with his other arm, pulling her in too, until he had one child on each hip, both still glaring at each other over his shoulders like this arrangement was merely a temporary ceasefire. "There. Everyone gets a hug. Nobody has to share less than anybody else."

"But I get more," Aria muttered, just loud enough for Elian to hear.

"No, I do known him longel ," Elian shot back immediately.

"That's not even true--"

"Alright." Enzo clapped his hands once, stepping in with the weary authority of someone who had clearly refereed this exact type of standoff before. "How about neither of you gets more, and instead you both go find out what Elora's doing over there, because I saw a whole tray of sweets on that table and I don't think either of you has claimed the biggest one yet."

Both children went dead silent for exactly one second, weighing the offer, before some unspoken truce passed between them and they scrambled down from Donato's arms in near-perfect unison, sprinting off toward the table with all animosity apparently forgotten in the face of dessert.

Donato let out a long breath, shaking his head as he stood, and looked over at his mother, who was still standing frozen in the archway, tears streaming freely down her face, one hand pressed to her chest. "Mom." He crossed the room and pulled her into a proper hug. "You couldn't wait, could you."

"Five years," Aravi said, voice cracking against his shoulder. "I have waited five years. I was not waiting one more day to see kiara and my granddaughter." Aravi crossed the room the moment she'd let go of Donato, her eyes already fixed on Kiara across the hall.

As far as Kiara's memory had returned, she knew Aravi. Not fully, not with the weight of shared years behind it, but enough she remembered the early days of falling for Donato, remembered learning who his family was, piecing together names and faces the way anyone does when they're starting to care about someone.

Aravi's face wasn't unfamiliar to her the way most of Italy still was. And more than that something in her chest recognized this woman on sight before memory even had the chance to catch up some old, wordless closeness that made her breath catch the moment their eyes met across the room.

Aravi didn't wait. She closed the distance and pulled Kiara into her arms and the second she did she broke down completely sobbing into her shoulder in a way that had nothing measured about it at all.

Kiara held her back instinctively, arms coming up around her without hesitation, tears sliding down her own face even before she understood exactly why.

When Aravi finally pulled back, she did something that made Kiara's stomach drop  she brought both her hands together in front of her, folded, and lowered her head slightly, the unmistakable posture of someone begging forgiveness.

"No" Kiara reached out immediately, catching Aravi's joined hands in her own before she could go any further. "Please, don't."

But Aravi kept going anyway, voice breaking apart with every word. "I'm asking your forgiveness. For everything that happened five years ago. For not standing by you. For believing Rose over my own daughter-in-law. For the things I said to you, the terrible things-" She was crying too hard now to finish properly, still bent slightly forward, still holding her hands together despite Kiara's grip on them.

Kiara shook her head slowly, unsure what she was even supposed to do with this  with a woman old enough to be her own mother, bowing in front of her, begging. "Please." Her voice wavered. "Please don't hold your hands like that in front of me. M-Mom." The word slipped out hesitant uncertain like she wasn't sure she'd earned the right to say it yet or whether Aravi had earned the right to hear it.

 "I don't remember what happened five years ago. Not really. But from what Aunt Kavya told me, and what Donato told me it hurts. That my own family, my own husband, didn't stand by me when I needed it most." She swallowed hard. "It's not easy for me to just forgive and forget all of that. It's going to take time."

"I understand." Aravi nodded quickly, wiping at her face with the back of her hand, some of the desperation easing now that Kiara hadn't pulled away entirely. "I understand completely, darling, take all the time you need. I know what we did to you isn't something anyone forgets easily, or forgives easily. I'm not asking for that right now." She reached up and cupped Kiara's face gently in both hands. "I'm just happy. So happy, to see you alive, standing right here in front of me. That's enough for me. For all of us. You just  stay with us. That's all that matters, baby."

Her gaze drifted then past Kiara's shoulder, to where Aria was deep in an escalating argument with Elian over who got the last of the sweets on the tray. Aravi's whole face softened and she turned back to Kiara still holding her face gently.

"Thank you." Her voice cracked. "Thank you so much, for this precious girl. Thank you for never giving up. And for bringing her into this world." Kiara felt her own tears spill over freely now and she pulled Aravi into another hug holding on tighter this time.

_____

Elana came forward once Aravi finally stepped back wiping at her own eyes, though she was smiling through it.

"Kia." She stopped a few feet away, like she wasn't sure she had the right to close the last of the distance without permission. "I don't even know where to start."

Kiara offered a small tentative smile. "You can start wherever you want."

Elana let out a shaky breath, then gestured toward Enzo standing near the door with Elian now back on his hip. "Your wish came true, you know. Look me and Enzo, together. It only happened because of you. You're the one who kept telling me to just talk to him, that whole year, do you remember-" She stopped herself realizing halfway through the sentence. "No. You don't. Of course you don't."She pressed her lips together for a second, steadying herself.

"I'm so sorry. For the things I said back then, when everything happened. For not waiting for you." Her voice cracked. "You were the one who was happiest for me, when Enzo and I first-when things started between us. You told me not to wait, that you'd be there whenever you could be. And I know I should have waited for you anyway. You deserved to be there. Instead I got married without you while you were--" She couldn't finish that part either tears spilling over now too.

Kiara shook her head gently, reaching out to take Elana's hand. "No. You did the right thing. You couldn't have known when, or if, any of this would happen. You shouldn't have put your whole life on hold for something none of you even knew the ending to."

Elana let out a small broken laugh more relief than humor in it. "You always did that. Made everyone else feel better before yourself."

"I don't remember doing that," Kiara said softly. "But I believe you."

While the adults were still deep in tears and apologies, nobody noticed that the truce over the sweets tray had already collapsed.

It had started innocently enough Elian had reached for the last of the pistachio barfi at the exact moment Aria had, and neither of them had been willing to concede.

"That one's mine," Aria said, her hand closing over the plate first.

"I saw it first," Elian shot back, tugging at the opposite edge of the plate.

"Seeing isn't the same as touching. I touched it first."

"You didn't, I did!"

The plate tipped between them, barfi sliding dangerously close to the edge, and for a second both of them froze, watching it wobble before Aria snatched it up entirely, holding it above her head, well out of Elian's reach which, given that he was three and she was nearly five, was a significant height advantage.

"Ha." She said it with real satisfaction. "Aria wins."

"That not fair, you're biggel."

"That's not my fault you're small."

Elian's face went red, the particular full-body outrage of a toddler who has just discovered the universe operates on rules he finds deeply unjust. "I'm not small I'm three!"

"I'm almost five," Aria said, with the crushing confidence of someone who considered this argument settled. "So Aria is in charge."

"You not in charge of me."

"I'm your cousin. Cousins who are older are in charge. That's the rule."

"That's not a real rule!"

"It is, my daddy said so." This was notably not something Donato had ever actually said, but Aria delivered it with such total conviction that even she seemed to briefly believe it.

Elian, unable to counter an appeal to Uncle Donato's imagined authority, switched tactics entirely and lunged for the barfi anyway, managing to hook two fingers onto the very edge of the plate. A brief, undignified tug-of-war followed, both of them growling with effort, until Aria taller, and considerably more strategic simply stepped backward behind a large potted plant, putting the entire arrangement out of his reach in one smooth move.

"No fair!" Elian's voice climbed several octaves hovering right on the edge of a full meltdown. "Give it back, that's MY balfi!"

"It was never yours. It's Aria's now. Aria claimed it."

"I'M TELLING DADA."

"Go ahead. Aria's daddy is bigger than your daddy."

This, as it turned out, was the single most devastating thing Aria could have said, because Elian's face crumpled entirely his lower lip trembling with the specific betrayal of a child who has just learned there might exist a bigger, more important father than his own.

"My dad is not small," he wailed abandoning the barfi argument altogether in favor of this newer more urgent crisis. "My dad is the biggest!"

"My daddy is bigger," Aria said again sensing blood in the water and pressing her advantage without mercy. "Everyone in my village said so."

"YOUR VILLAGE ISN'T EVEN REAL--"

"It's realer than your city, you don't even HAVE a village--"

By this point Elian had descended into genuine tears, loud enough that they finally cut through the emotional haze in the main hall, and every adult head turned at once toward the sound.

Enzo got there first, scooping Elian up mid-wail. "Hey, hey, what happened, buddy?"

"Aria said dada is small!" Elian sobbed, pointing an accusing finger.

"I said Aria's daddy is bigger," Aria corrected, entirely unrepentant, still holding the barfi triumphantly above her head. "That's different."

Donato, arriving a beat behind Enzo, took one look at the scene  his daughter, plate held aloft like a trophy, thoroughly pleased with herself, and his nephew, dissolved into tears over a perceived height insult to his father  and had to press a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing outright.

"Aria." He crouched down to her level, doing his best to look stern. "Did you tell Elian I'm bigger than his dad?"

"You are bigger, Daddy." She said it like she was simply reporting the facts. "I checked."

"You didn't check anything, baby, you're four."

"Almost five," she corrected immediately.

Enzo, still bouncing a sniffling Elian on his hip, raised an eyebrow at Donato. "Are you, though? Bigger than me?"

"Don't," Donato warned, already sensing exactly where this was headed.

"No, I'm just curious now. Aria seems very confident."

"Aria's daddy IS bigger," Aria announced again louder this time apparently unwilling to let the matter rest even slightly.

"Okay, that's enough out of both of you," Kiara said arriving to pry the barfi gently from Aria's raised hand before it ended up on the floor entirely. "Nobody's daddy is bigger than anybody. Everybody's daddy is exactly the right size for their own family. Elian, sweetheart, your dad is very tall don't listen to her."

"See," Elian said thickly, glaring at Aria over Kiara's diplomatic intervention, some fresh confidence restored.

"Still bigger," Aria muttered, just loud enough for him to hear and immediately ducked behind Donato's leg when Elian's face started crumpling again.

The whole hall dissolved into laughter, the heaviness of a moment ago broken entirely by two small children nearly starting a diplomatic incident over pistachio dessert and paternal height, and even Kiara, still wiping at the last of her own tears, found herself laughing along with everyone else, watching her daughter peek out from behind Donato's leg with absolutely zero remorse.

_______

It was dinner time, and everyone had settled around the table, the meal unfolding in easy conversation, plates passed back and forth, the mood lighter than it had been all week. Everyone, that is, except Donato, who sat quietly through most of it, more anxious than tense, picking at his food without really eating much of it.

Earlier that day, Aravi had asked Kiara to come stay with her not back to Italy, not yet, just to the Romano mansion here in India, so she could spend real time with her and Aria before eventually heading home. Aravi understood she couldn't stay indefinitely at the Rajput haveli.

Things had softened since Kiara's return, certainly  the raw edge of five years of grief had eased into something more bearable now that Kiara was alive and standing in front of everyone. But softened wasn't the same as healed. There had been no real relationship between the Rajputs and the Romanos in five years.

The Rajputs had blamed the Romanos for Kiara's death outright, and even now, with Kiara back, that blame hadn't simply evaporated. Aravi understood exactly why. The Romanos had hurt a Rajput daughter badly enough that she'd lost five years of her own life over it.

Anger like that didn't dissolve just because the person survived. She didn't expect it to, and she wasn't going to sit at the Rajputs' table and pretend otherwise. So she'd asked Kiara to come stay at the mansion instead  close enough that she and Aria could visit the Rajputs freely, but somewhere Aravi could actually have time with them too, without overstaying her welcome in a house that still hadn't forgiven her family.

Kiara hadn't said no. She hadn't said yes either. Just that she needed time to think about it. And that was exactly what had Donato sitting here now, quietly working through his food without tasting much of it, turning the question over and over.

He wanted her to come with them. More than that after a full week of showing up at the haveli each morning, spending the day with his daughter and his wife, and then driving back to an empty house each night, he wanted more than visits.

He wanted to actually live in the same space as them, wake up under the same roof, be there for every ordinary moment instead of just the scheduled ones. He was so caught up in it that he'd barely touched his plate.

Aria noticed. She was seated beside him, eating with her own hand the way Kiara had carefully taught her, and somewhere between one bite and the next, she picked up on the fact that her father had gone quiet, distracted, his food mostly untouched.

Without saying anything about it, she tore off a small piece of roti, dipped it carefully into the gravy the way he'd shown her back on the dinner, and held it up toward his mouth. "Daddy. Aaa." She said it with total seriousness, the exact tone he used with her every time he fed her. "Aria's going to feed you now."

The whole table turned toward the small scene unfolding, several faces softening at once. Kiara smiled, something warm moving across her face. "Look at that," she said gently. "Today Aria's feeding you, the same way you feed her."

Donato blinked out of his own head, looked down at his daughter holding the small offering up toward him with total patience, and felt something in his chest loosen despite everything still unresolved. He opened his mouth, and Aria fed him with the same careful concentration she gave everything, clearly proud of herself for managing it without spilling any of the gravy.

________

After dinner, the Romanos gathered to head back to their mansion. Kiara and Aria were nowhere in sight  they'd disappeared inside together right after the meal, and fifteen minutes had passed with no sign of either of them.

Kavya and Elora were leaving with the group too. Kavya had come the moment she'd heard Kiara was back, staying the full week to be with her, but with her in-laws now in India, she couldn't justify staying any longer while her husband managed things alone at their own mansion.

Albert had never once asked her to cut the visit short he'd given her the whole week without complaint, understanding exactly what this reunion meant to her. But now that Aravi and the others had arrived, it made sense for the whole family to travel together.

Albert took Elora's hand and led her toward the car, Elana, Kavya, and Aravi following a few steps behind, and behind them, Elian, Enzo, and Donato brought up the rear.

Donato kept glancing back toward the haveli every few steps, unable to help himself, hoping each time that Kiara and Aria would appear behind him. They didn't.

Enzo noticed the tension building in his friend's shoulders. "Darling, relax. She'll come when she's ready to come. Let's just head home  you can drive back in the morning and see Aria then." He said it gently, trying to steady him, understanding exactly how much this moment cost Donato.

These past five years had been something close to hell for him, every day spent chasing a wife he couldn't find, and now she was standing right in front of him again, and he still couldn't reach for her the way a husband should be able to. Couldn't hold her the way he wanted to. Couldn't even talk to her freely, without the careful distance both of them kept out of necessity.

It hurt him in ways Enzo could only guess at. But Donato had made himself a promise  he wouldn't rush her, wouldn't pressure her into forgetting anything or forgiving faster than she was ready to. He would give her the time she needed, however long that took. He exhaled slowly and nodded, forcing his feet to keep moving toward the car. Then, just as he reached it, he heard her.

"Daddy, wait! Aria's coming too!"

He turned, and there she was, running full speed across the courtyard toward him, and behind her, Kiara, walking at a steadier pace with a carry bag a unmistakable proof that she was coming with them.

Something in his chest broke open at the sight of it. He caught Aria as she barreled straight into his arms, and by the time Kiara reached them, his eyes had gone visibly wet.

Aravi smiled softly at her daughter-in-law as she approached, something in her own posture finally easing after a long week of careful worry. "Let's go," she said gently, resting a hand on Kiara's back.

Kiara nodded, turned to say a quick goodbye to her mother, and climbed into the car with Donato and Aria. Aravi, Elana, Enzo, and Elian settled into a second car, while Albert, Kavya, and Elora took a third, and together the small convoy pulled away from the haveli, heading toward the Romano mansion.

It was the same mansion where Kiara had begun her married life six years ago. And it was exactly why Donato had wanted this so badly  some quiet, stubborn hope sitting underneath everything else he'd told himself about giving her space and waiting patiently.

He believed, deeply, that once she walked back through those doors, once she stood in the rooms where they'd first married, first built a life together, something in her would finally click back into place. That the walls themselves might hand her back the parts of her memory that photographs and stories hadn't managed to reach yet.

_______

Donato got out of the car first, circling around to open the back door. He lifted Aria onto his shoulder and extended his other hand toward Kiara, waiting. She stepped out on her own, ignoring the offered hand entirely, and moved past him toward the house without a second glance at it.

Something in his chest sank quietly at that, small and familiar by now this careful distance she still kept, even in the ordinary moments, even when it would have cost her nothing to take his hand. He scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed at how visible his hope must have been, and forced a smile onto his face instead of letting it show.

Behind them, the other two cars pulled in, and everyone spilled out at once Elian scrambling down from Enzo's arms, Elora being lifted out by Albert, Aravi and Elana following behind. The guards at the gate pulled the great doors open, and the whole group made their way inside together.

Donato trailed a few steps behind, watching Kiara as she walked into the entrance hall, some quiet hope still sitting under everything else that maybe stepping into this mansion, the same one she'd first entered six years ago in her wedding clothes, would stir something loose in her.

He got so caught up watching her that he nearly missed Aria tugging at his collar. "Daddy." She had to say it twice before it landed.

He blinked back into focus. "Yeah, baby?"

"Is this big house yours too?" She was staring up at the sweeping entrance hall, the high ceilings, the marble underfoot, with open awe.

"Yes baby It's ours."

"Is it Aria's too?"

"Yours too."

"Yeahhh!" She threw both fists in the air. "Aria has a big mansion!"

"No, it's mine," Elian cut in immediately, still perched in Enzo's arms, clearly unwilling to let that claim stand unchallenged. That was all it took the two of them were off again, bickering over ownership of an entire mansion with total conviction, neither willing to concede an inch.

It was Elora, quiet until now, who finally spoke up, her small voice cutting cleanly through both of them. "It's mine," she said simply, matter-of-fact, from her perch on Albert's hip. "I live here with Mom and Dad. Not you two."

In her mind, the logic was airtight  she was the one who actually lived in this mansion, so naturally, it belonged to her and not to either of her visiting cousins.

The whole group went briefly silent, stunned, and then burst out laughing this was the first time Elora had inserted herself into one of Aria and Elian's arguments, and the flat, unbothered confidence of it caught everyone off guard.

Aria's mouth snapped shut, genuinely startled. "Really? Elora, you live here?"

Elora nodded simply. "Yes."

"This belongs to all of you, babies," Aravi said, laughing as she crouched down to their level. "Don't fight over it. We have even bigger mansions in Italy, you know. You'll all have your own one day."

All three children's eyes went wide at once, identical looks of delighted disbelief crossing their faces. "Yeahhh!" they shouted together, the argument entirely forgotten, already imagining a future stacked with mansions of their very own.

Laughing, the whole family made their way further inside, the earlier tension easing into something lighter as they went.

_______

Once Aria was settled into bed for her nap, Kiara found herself wandering the mansion on her own, though she was aware, the whole time, that Donato was trailing a few steps behind her, quiet, giving her space but not quite leaving her alone either.

She pretended not to notice.

Every so often something caught her attention a particular painting in a hallway, the carved detail on a door frame, a window seat tucked into an alcove that made her pause a beat longer than she meant to and each time, Donato stepped in gently to explain what it meant, some small piece of the life they'd built here six years ago.

We used to sit there in the evenings. You picked that painting yourself, you really like this place. That things.  Kiara listened to each one, nodded, and moved on without any of it landing the way he clearly hoped it would.

After what felt like an hour of this Donato finally asked, careful, hopeful despite himself. "Kiara. Did any memery come back to you? Being here?"

She looked at him for a moment then shook her head. He exhaled, something in his shoulders dropping slightly and then almost on impulse said, "Let's go to our bedroom."

Kiara choked slightly on air staring at him. "What? Look-- She held a hand up before he could say anything else. "I know we're married. I remember that I used to love you." She paused there and something in the way she said it made her own chest tighten unexpectedly.

"But we're not exactly in a good state right now. I still have a lot to work through. I can't just-- go with you, sleep in the same room, same bed. Not right now."

Donato blinked, confused for a second before understanding caught up with him  she'd misread the suggestion entirely. He almost laughed, if not for the one part of what she'd said that had lodged itself somewhere sharp in his chest. I used to love you.

Used to. The word sat there, quiet and devastating. Did that mean she didn't anymore? Had whatever she'd felt for him simply expired somewhere in the last five years, replaced by nothing at all?

He set the thought aside, forcing a small smile instead. "No-- Kiara, you misunderstood. I just meant, come with me to our old bedroom. We spent a lot of good time in there. I'm sure something in that room might bring some memory back to you."

"Oh." She studied him for a second, then nodded slowly. "Okay. Let's go."

He led her down the hall to their old room, and the moment they stepped inside, something in Kiara did shift a familiarity settling over her, an unmistakable sense that she'd spent good days of her life within these walls, comfortable ones, happy ones even.

But nothing concrete surfaced. No specific memory, no scene she could point to and say this happened here. Just the feeling, thin and frustratingly out of reach.

She tried, closing her eyes for a moment, willing something to come. But whenever she pushed herself to reach past the vague warmth of the room, the same unwanted images crowded in instead--the house from her nightmares, the blood, the woman screaming, the gunshot, and underneath all of it, some scream she still couldn't fully place.

It left her rattled, the same restlessness that had been building for days now settling back into her chest. She let out a slow breath, frustration mounting under the surface. She wanted her memory back. All of it, properly, not these scattered, unreliable fragments that gave her nothing solid to stand on.

Living like this-- half-remembering, half-guessing, caught between who she used to be and who she'd become without knowing  was getting harder by the day. More than anything, she wanted to understand the recurring nightmare that had been haunting her for weeks now.

She needed to know what it actually was. Whether it had really happened. And if it had--why. Why there was a house like that hiding somewhere in her, a house with blood on the floor and a gun going off and a woman's scream she couldn't place a face to.

What did I do, in that place, she thought, standing in the middle of a bedroom full of a happiness she couldn't quite reach. What happened to me there.

Any thoughts?