Operation: Threads of Connection

Not Ever

~

Hours had gone by and Becky's house was filled with a bunch of guests. Random groups of girls would find me every five minutes, I didn't want to be rude so I would talk to them for a bit before excusing myself. The routine carried on for a good two hours. Finally, I had enough. I decided to go outside towards the courtyard, the cool night air a welcome change from the stuffy, crowded house. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind, but the nagging doubts Ewen had planted wouldn't let go. What if Anya really didn't remember? What if all the memories we shared meant nothing to her now?

I walked over to the old stone bench near the garden, where the faint glow of the fairy lights hanging from the trees cast soft shadows. Sitting down, I stared at the stars, trying to make sense of the chaos in my head. I knew I shouldn't be thinking like this—Emile was right. I had to have faith in what we had. But the uncertainty gnawed at me.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel path, and I tensed, half-hoping and half-dreading it would be Anya. But when I turned, I saw Alina approaching, her long, red dress flowing behind her like a crimson wave. She smiled as she sat down next to me.

"Hey, you okay? You looked like you needed some air," Alina said, her voice gentle, yet knowing.

I forced a smile. "Yeah, just needed a break. It's getting a little crazy in there."

She nodded, her eyes scanning the sky before settling back on me. "You've been avoiding her all night, you know."

I blinked, surprised at how easily she'd seen through me. "I just... I'm not sure how to approach her," I admitted. "What if she doesn't remember anything?"

Alina sighed, folding her hands in her lap. "I don't know what Anya's thinking right now, Damian. But I do know that you can't just stand on the sidelines forever. You have to take a chance, no matter how scary it is. If you don't, you'll always wonder 'what if?'"

Her words hit home, sinking deep into the pit of my stomach. She was right—I couldn't just sit here and let fear dictate my actions. But the idea of facing Anya, of possibly hearing her say that she'd moved on or didn't remember me at all, was almost paralyzing.

As if reading my thoughts, Alina gently took my hand. "You've already come this far, Damian. Don't give up now. Go talk to her. Even if it doesn't turn out the way you want, at least you'll know."

I looked down at our intertwined hands, her hands were warm in contrast to the cold night, they trembled slightly as if she wanted to say more, but before she could I decided to not give her the wrong idea.

"Thanks, Alina," I murmured, squeezing her hand before letting go. "You're a good friend."

She smiled sadly, standing up and smoothing out her dress. "Anytime. Now go get your girl."

With a deep breath, I stood up, bracing myself for what I had to do. As I walked back towards the house, I could feel the weight of the moment settling over me, but this time, there was a sense of resolve mixed in with the fear.

As I was turning the corner, I bump into someone and staggered back a step, barely catching myself before I fell. I looked up, my heart skipping a beat when I saw who it was.

"Anya?"

Anya stood in front of me, her eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, we just stood there, frozen. The noise from the party seemed distant, a mere hum in the background as I stared at her, trying to gauge what she was thinking.

"I'm sorry," She finally blurted out, "I didn't mean to interrupt Alina and you-"

I blinked, processing her words. "No, it's not like that," I said quickly, feeling a rush of urgency to clarify. "Alina and I were just talking, that's all."

Anya seemed to relax slightly, though the tension between us was still palpable. "Oh," she murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. "I just... I saw you two together and thought... I don't know what I thought. You guys just seem close"

I shook my head, stepping closer to her. "It's not what you think," I repeated, my voice softer. "We were just talking about—about you, actually."

Her eyes flickered up to meet mine again, curiosity mixed with uncertainty. "About me?"

"Yeah," I admitted, feeling the weight of the truth pressing down on me. "I was telling her how... how I wasn't sure how to approach you. I didn't know if you'd want to talk to me,"

Anya's expression softened, and she looked away, as if gathering her thoughts. "Damian," she began slowly, "I.. I was wondering when you'd come talk to me, do you not want to anymore? because I lost all our memories?"

Her words caught me off guard, and I could see the vulnerability in her eyes, a rare sight that made my chest tighten. "Anya, no," I said quickly, shaking my head. "It's not that at all. It's just... I didn't know how to handle this. I've been worried about what you'd think, or if things could ever go back to how they were."

Anya took a deep breath, and for a moment, it seemed like she was struggling to find the right words. She reached over to grab my hand, the motion alone made my heart jump like crazy. "Damian," she said softly, "I may have lost the memories, but... when I look at you, I feel-"

"Anya!!! I need you in here now!" Becky yelled out Anya flinched at the interruption, her hand slipping from mine as she turned toward the house. I could see the conflict in her eyes, torn between whatever she was about to say and the urgency in Becky's voice.

"Go," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside me. "We can talk later."

She hesitated, looking back at me with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, Damian."

I nodded, forcing a smile. "It's okay,"

With a reluctant glance, Anya turned and hurried back into the house, leaving me standing alone in the courtyard. The warmth of her hand still lingered on mine, and I couldn't help but wonder what she had been about to say.

The moment had been so close—too close to something real, something important—and yet, it slipped away in an instant. I could only hope that whatever she felt was strong enough to survive the countless distractions and doubts that seemed determined to get in the way.

As I stood there, watching the door close behind her, I knew I'd wait as long as it took. Because no matter what happened next, I wasn't ready to give up on her. Not now. Not ever.