Chapter three

Ethan stares back at her, his confusion mirroring the disbelief in her eyes. He feels a pang of recognition, a fleeting sense of familiarity. It's like a photograph, a snapshot of a memory, flickering in and out of focus. He can almost see her, vibrant and alive, with her fiery red hair, but the details remain elusive, like a dream fading at dawn.

He tries to pull himself back to the present, to the reality of this moment. He knows he should be able to place her, to remember who she is, but his mind feels like a locked room, the key lost somewhere in the labyrinth of his forgotten memories. If it were two years ago, he would have recognized her instantly, he would have known who Sam was, but now, everything is shrouded in a thick fog of amnesia.

Ethan's voice, when it finally breaks the silence, is strained, a mix of frustration and fear. "Who is Sam? Who are you?" he asks, his words a plea for clarity, for an end to this maddening confusion. He looks at her, searching for a spark of recognition, a clue that might unlock the door to his lost memories. But all he sees is the same bewilderment reflected back at him, a mirror image of his own disorientation.

The tears welling up in her eyes are a silent accusation, a tangible manifestation of her pain. Ethan watches, helpless, as she struggles to hold back the torrent of emotion. He can see the effort in her face, the way she clenches her jaw, the way her shoulders tense, as if trying to hold back a tidal wave of grief. He wants to reach out, to offer comfort, but he's frozen, paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of her anguish, the weight of her unspoken sorrow. He knows he should know her, he should know why her tears are flowing, but his mind is a blank slate, offering no answers, no solace.

He feels a wave of guilt wash over him, a sense of responsibility for her pain, even though he has no idea what he's done, what he's forgotten. He wants to reach out, to offer her some kind of comfort, but the words seem to stick in his throat, choked by the thick fog of his amnesia.

The words hang in the air, heavy with accusation and grief. Ethan feels a cold shiver run down his spine, a sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. The fire, the love of his life, his best friend burning to a crisp – these are images that should be etched into his memory, seared into his soul. But they are absent, a gaping hole in his past, a void that echoes with the emptiness of his forgotten memories.

He tries to picture the scene, to conjure up the heat, the flames, the screams, but his mind is a blank canvas. He can't remember, can't grasp the reality of the tragedy she describes. The weight of her words presses down on him, suffocating him with the truth of his forgotten past. He can't believe that he could have forgotten such a monumental event, such a profound loss. It feels like a betrayal, not only of her, but of himself.

The words "love of your life" and "best friend" are like nails hammered into the coffin of his forgotten memories. He feels a growing sense of panic, a desperate need to fill the void in his mind, to piece together the shattered fragments of his past.

Ethan watches Sophie disappear into the crowd, her fiery red hair a fading ember in the distance. The weight of her words still hangs heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the chasm that now separates them. He knows he can't let her walk away, not without understanding what she knows, what she remembers.

He takes a deep breath, pushing aside the lingering shock and the unsettling feeling of emptiness that has settled in his gut. He has to know. He has to understand why Sophie is so angry, why she feels so betrayed. He has to find out what happened, what he has forgotten. He starts to run, his heart pounding in his chest, fueled by a desperate need to bridge the gap between their memories, to understand the truth that has been hidden from him.

Ethan watches Sophie disappear through the cafe doors, her red hair a blur of movement against the backdrop of the bustling coffee shop. He can't let her walk away, not without understanding what she knows, what she remembers. He's still reeling from the shock of her words, the accusation hanging heavy in the air. He has to know. He has to understand why Sophie is so angry, why she feels so betrayed. He has to find out what happened, what he has forgotten. He pushes back his chair, his heart pounding in his chest, fueled by a desperate need to bridge the gap between their memories, to understand the truth that has been hidden from him. 

He follows her out of the cafe, his eyes searching for her amongst the throngs of people on the sidewalk. The warmth of the cafe fades behind him, replaced by the cool air of the city street. He has to find her. He has to know.

Ethan watches in dismay as Sophie slides into the backseat of a taxi, the door slamming shut before he can even reach her. He curses under his breath, the frustration building in his chest. He remembers now, with a jolt of realization, that he left his car at the therapist's office. He debates his options, his mind racing. Should he try to flag down another taxi, or should he go back and get his car? He needs to find Sophie, to understand what she knows, but time is ticking away, and the thought of being stuck in traffic is a daunting prospect. 

The urgency of the situation pushes him to make a decision. He needs to be with Sophie, to confront this mystery head-on. He decides to flag down a taxi, hoping that the traffic gods will be kind to him.

Ethan follows Sophie's taxi, his heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and determination. He watches as she steps out of the car, her shoulders slumped with a heavy sadness, and heads towards a cemetery. The air hangs heavy with the scent of damp earth and the quiet hum of mourning. He follows her, his steps hesitant, a sense of foreboding settling over him. 

She walks down a pathway lined with weathered tombstones, each one a silent testament to a life lived and lost. Her gaze is fixed on a single grave, a simple headstone with a crescent moon engraved on top. The inscription reads: "Samantha Grace Logan."

Ethan feels a chill run down his spine. The name is familiar, echoing in the recesses of his memory. He tries to place it, to connect it to the events that have unfolded, but the details remain elusive, shrouded in a thick fog of forgotten memories. 

He watches Sophie as she kneels by the grave, her hands resting gently on the cool stone. Her voice, a hushed whisper, carries across the silent expanse of the cemetery. "I'm sorry, Samantha," she says, her voice laced with grief. "I'm so sorry."

Ethan knows, with a growing sense of dread, that he's standing at the precipice of a truth that will change everything.

Sophie speaks to the grave as if Samantha is still alive, her voice a soft murmur in the stillness of the cemetery. "I'm sorry, Sam," she says, her words carrying a weight of sorrow. "I promised you I wouldn't be upset when I saw Ethan, but I lost my cool. I let my emotions get the better of me. I know you wouldn't want me to be like that, you always said I was better than that."

Ethan watches, his heart heavy with a sense of loss and confusion. He feels a strange kinship with this woman, a connection forged in the shared grief they carry. He sees her as a puzzle piece, a fragment of the truth he desperately seeks. 

The conversation between Sophie and the deceased Samantha is a window into a world Ethan is only beginning to understand. It's a world where secrets run deep, where promises are made and broken, and where the weight of the past hangs heavy on the present. 

He waits patiently, his eyes glued to Sophie, hoping that her words will offer him a glimpse into the mystery that surrounds him.

Sophie turns, her eyes meeting Ethan's. There's a hint of accusation in her gaze, a question hanging in the air between them. "Did you follow me?" she asks, her voice laced with a mixture of anger and hurt.

Ethan hesitates, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows he has no right to be here, that he's intruding on a moment of profound grief. But he can't bring himself to lie. 

"Yes," he admits, his voice a low murmur. "I did."

He waits for her reaction, bracing himself for the anger he knows is coming. But Sophie doesn't lash out. Instead, she stares at him, her expression unreadable, her eyes searching his as if trying to decipher the motives behind his actions.

The silence hangs heavy between them, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the wind. Ethan knows he needs to explain, to offer some justification for his presence. But the words elude him, caught in the tangled web of his own confusion and the weight of the secrets he's carrying.

"She was the brightest," Sophie says, her voice thick with emotion as she speaks of Samantha. "The best. She never let anyone get hurt, and she was all about sacrifice. You even said so yourself once," she adds, her voice cracking as tears well up in her eyes.

Ethan feels a pang of guilt, a sharp reminder of the words he spoke so long ago. He doesn't remember the specific time he said it, but the sentiment feels familiar, like something he would have said about Samantha. He can almost hear his own voice, echoing in the empty space of his memory, describing Samantha's kindness, her strength, her unwavering light. He sees the pain in Sophie's eyes, a pain that mirrors his own. He understands that Samantha's death has left a gaping hole in their lives, a void that can never be filled.

He wants to offer words of comfort, to share the burden of their grief, but he knows that words are inadequate. He can only listen, offer his presence, and hope that somehow, in the shared silence, they can find a sliver of solace. He wishes he could remember, but his mind is a blank canvas where Samantha's face should be.

"It was a car accident," Sophie says, her voice barely a whisper. "You were both in the car. She was coming home late one night, and... it was raining. The roads were slick. She lost control." 

Ethan feels a shiver run down his spine. The memory of the rain, the slick road, the sudden lurch of the car, flashes before his eyes. He remembers the impact, the searing pain, the darkness. He remembers waking up in the hospital, confused and disoriented, with only a few bruises to show for the accident. He remembers the doctors, the nurses, the whispers of a fire, a tragedy. But he doesn't remember how he got out of the car. No one does. 

Sophie's voice breaks, "The car caught fire. It was a miracle you got out. But..." she trails off, her eyes welling up. 

Ethan knows what she's about to say. He knows the truth. He can't remember the details, but he knows he lost her in the flames. The fire that claimed her life, the fire that stole his memories. 

"It was a miracle you got out," Sophie repeats, her voice laced with a hint of disbelief. "No one knows how." 

He wants to tell her, to assure her that he remembers, that he knows, but the words won't come. He can only nod, his heart heavy with the weight of his amnesia, a constant reminder of the life he lost, the life they shared, the life that burned away in the flames.

Ethan sits quietly beside Sophie, who wipes away tears as she recalls her friend. He glances at her, feeling a pang of empathy mixed with his own confusion. "I'm sorry about your friend," he says softly, unsure of how to comfort her. 

She nods, her voice trembling. "It's just so hard to process everything. I just wish things were different." Ethan can't help but feel the weight of his own situation pressing down on him. He turns to her, his brow furrowed. "I don't get it. Why hasn't my dad told me about Sam? She was supposed to be... the love of my life, right? Why would he keep that from me?"

Sophie looks at him, her eyes filled with understanding. "Maybe he thought it would hurt you more to remember. But it's not fair, Ethan. You deserve to know." 

Ethan feels frustration bubbling inside him. "It's like I'm missing a part of myself, and everyone else knows but me. It doesn't make sense."

He clenches his fist, a new determination hardens his gaze. "I need to know everything about Samantha