Even though his face was unclear, I knew with everything in me that he mattered and i needed to know him.

Without thinking, I ran after him, chasing him all the way to the edge of a cliff. His back stayed turned toward me, and no matter how loud I called, he didn’t stop. He didn’t even look back. He just stepped off the edge and disappeared into the dark below, gone before I could reach him.

"Carl!"

I jolted awake, heart slamming against my ribs. The bedside lamp threw a dim, warm glow across the room, but a chill had settled deep in my bones. A shadow moved near the bed.

"Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?"

Sergio. His face came into focus as my breathing slowed, and I registered the white shirt he was wearing — the same as the man in my dream. But I knew instantly. It wasn’t him. Their eyes were nothing alike.

"What did you dream about?" he asked, studying me carefully.

"A man. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was important to me." I looked at Sergio. "Before everything that happened — before I came back — was there anyone like that in my life?"

"Elena, you were twenty-eight when you were reborn. You had a whole life, a career, dozens of people around you. I wouldn’t know who you’re describing. Do you remember his name?"

"His name is—"

The word sat right there, just beneath the surface, and I could not pull it out. I couldn’t even hold onto the shape of his face. It was like trying to catch smoke.

"I don’t remember."

"Then there’s nothing to be done," Sergio said, his voice calm and even. "What matters is the present. If you’ve forgotten someone, they probably weren’t that important to begin with."

I didn’t believe that for a second.

If that man meant nothing, why was he in my dreams instead of Julian — the person who had been beside me since childhood?

"Don’t dwell on it. It’s early. Try to get more rest."

"Alright," I said, and lay back down.

The babies shifted inside me, as if responding to the unsettled feeling still moving through my chest. I pressed my hand gently to my belly and stayed still until they quieted. They had been calm through most of this pregnancy — more patient than I probably deserved.

One of the villa’s rooms had been converted into an examination space, and the next morning the doctor ran a full check-up. During the ultrasound, the screen lit up with live images, and the moment I saw them, something in me went completely soft.

Both babies were curled up and still. My daughter was asleep, her tiny mouth occasionally pursing like she was dreaming about something pleasant. The doctor traced her features on the screen and smiled. "This is your daughter. She’s the image of you, ma’am — look at that nose."

She was right. Even through the grainy scan, the resemblance was clear. Then, as if she sensed me watching, my daughter shifted and curved her little mouth upward in what looked unmistakably like a smile. My chest ached in the best way. I already couldn’t wait to hold her.

The probe moved, tracing past tiny limbs until my son’s face came into view.

"And this is your son. His features — he looks just like..." The doctor paused, something flickering across her expression. "He looks like his father."

I stared at the screen.

He didn’t look like me. But he didn’t look like Sergio either. His bone structure was sharp and well-defined, his features carrying a faintly mixed quality that I couldn’t place. Something about him was deeply familiar in a way I couldn’t explain, and that familiarity had nothing to do with the man standing beside me.

The doctor’s eyes cut briefly to Sergio, uneasy. He didn’t react. He simply leaned in and said quietly, "See? Both of them are doing well."

"Yes, both are healthy," the doctor confirmed, redirecting smoothly. "Just keep up with your check-ups and take care of yourself, ma’am."

"Can I have the videos saved? I’d like to be able to watch them when I miss them."

"You can," she said, then glanced at Sergio again. "But with no internet on the island..."

"I’ll handle it," he said.

Before I could reach for a towel to wipe the gel from my belly, Sergio was already there with a warm cloth, moving carefully. My body went stiff without my permission. Even something this small — him just being close — made me want to pull away. I reached for my clothes instead, ready to skip it entirely.

"Let me help," he said softly. "With your belly this size, it’s hard to move around."

I made myself stay still. "Alright."

He cleaned the gel away gently, then helped me sit up and smoothed my shirt back into place. He suggested a walk in the yard, said the fresh air would do me good, and I agreed. But when he reached for my hand, I eased mine away.

"I’m fine. I can walk on my own."

I moved ahead of him, eyes forward.

I didn’t understand the distance I kept putting between us. He was attentive, careful with me, never anything less than devoted. By every measure, he was doing everything right. And yet something in me — something that ran deeper than thought or memory — refused to close the gap. He felt less like a mate and more like someone assigned to watch over me.

Then, cutting through the sound of the waves, came the low thrum of helicopter blades.

With open sea on every side and no neighboring islands in sight, there was only one place it could be heading.

Someone was coming.

Even knowing the risks beyond the island, a desperate, pulling hope rose in my chest. It felt like someone out there was looking for me. Like someone was coming because I was lost and they knew it.

Who was on that helicopter?