The Night She Couldn’t Forget.

Rebecca’s POV

I leaned against my bedroom door after Davis left, trying to stop my tears.

His concern had brought back memories I wanted to forget. For a moment, I had seen my first life so clearly that I could almost feel the cold floor beneath my body and the pain in my chest.

I remembered Harper standing in front of me, laughing as she told me that Davis had never loved me.

I remembered the wedding ring on my finger and all the years I had spent hoping my husband would finally look at me the way I wanted him to.

I had promised myself that I would never let that happen again.

Yet Davis had stood outside my door that night, offering to help me without knowing why I was crying.

That was what made me angry.

In my first life, I had waited years for him to notice when something was wrong. Now, he was offering me comfort before I had even explained what had happened.

I wiped my face and went to the bathroom to wash it. Afterward, I returned to bed, but sleep refused to come.

By morning, I had decided to forget about the previous night and concentrate on my classes.

When I entered the kitchen, I stopped.

A glass of water sat beside my usual seat, with a plate of breakfast next to it. There was also a small note beneath the glass.

I picked it up.

You barely ate last night. Have breakfast before you leave.

There was no name on it, but I recognized Davis’s handwriting.

I stared at the note for a moment.

“Why are you doing this?” I muttered.

He hadn’t asked me to thank him. He hadn’t left some long message telling me how concerned he was. He had simply noticed that I hadn’t eaten and left me something for breakfast.

It was such a small gesture.

Unfortunately, it reminded me of the husband I had once hoped he would become.

I folded the note and placed it on the counter. For a moment, I considered throwing it away, but I decided against it.

Then I sat down and ate the breakfast.

It was just food. I wasn’t going to turn it into something more.

At the university, I concentrated on my leadership assignment. I spent most of the afternoon working with Seravelle, but she eventually put down her pen and looked at me.

“Rebecca, what’s wrong with you?”

I glanced at her. “Nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve been staring at the same page for ten minutes. You also nearly poured water into your bag instead of your cup.”

I looked at the bottle beside my notebook.

“That didn’t happen.”

“It almost happened.” She leaned closer. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

I sighed and closed my notebook.

“I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Why?”

“Just some bad dreams.”

Seravelle watched me for a moment.

“Are they about something that happened before?”

I looked away.

“Something like that.”

She didn’t push me for details, which I appreciated.

Instead, she rested her hand on my arm.

“Rebecca, you don’t have to let the past control every decision you make.”

I gave her a tired smile. “You make it sound easy.”

“I didn’t say it was easy. I’m saying you deserve to live your life without being afraid of everything that might happen.”

I swallowed.

“And before you start thinking about Davis, remember that you don’t have to trust him just because he’s behaving differently.”

I turned back to her.

“Who said I was thinking about Davis?”

Seravelle gave me a look.

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?”

“No.”

“Good, because I wasn’t going to lie.”

I laughed despite myself.

For the first time that day, I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders.

She was right about one thing. I could acknowledge Davis’s kindness without giving him access to my heart.

I had a life to build, and I wasn’t going to abandon my plans because he had started acting like a decent person.

After class, I returned to the apartment and found Davis sitting at the dining table with his laptop open. Several papers were spread around him, and he looked up when I walked in.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

I dropped my bag beside my chair and began arranging my notes.

Davis glanced at me.

“Did you get the breakfast?”

I paused before looking at him.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He blinked.

I frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You look surprised.”

“I thought you were going to accuse me of trying to control your eating habits.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t tempt me.”

He laughed, and the sound caught me off guard.

I had heard Davis laugh before, but it was usually during conversations with other people. Hearing it directed at me felt different, especially when he looked at me as though he enjoyed our arguments more than he wanted to admit.

“I’m glad you ate,” he said.

I looked down at my notes. “Don’t make it a habit.”

“Leaving breakfast?”

“Making me feel like I owe you something.”

His smile faded slightly.

“You don’t owe me anything, Rebecca.”

I looked at him.

He said it so simply that I didn’t know what to do with the answer.

After a moment, he nodded toward my papers.

“How is the assignment going?”

“Fine, except for one section.”

“What’s the problem?”

I hesitated before sliding the relevant page across the table.

“The smaller pack’s financial proposal. I’ve tried to make the agreement fair, but I’m not sure the security costs are balanced properly.”

Davis pulled the paper closer.

“Show me what you’ve calculated.”

I pointed to the figures, explaining how I had divided the expenses between the two packs.

He studied the page before tapping one line with his finger.

“You’ve calculated the initial costs correctly, but what happens if the smaller pack’s income drops during the first quarter?”

I frowned at the figures.

“They could struggle to meet their contribution.”

“And if they can’t?”

“The larger pack could use it as a reason to take control of more territory.”

“Exactly.”

I leaned back in my chair, annoyed with myself.

“I knew something was missing.”

“You have the right idea. You just need to account for what happens when things don’t go according to plan.”

He turned the paper toward me and pointed to the section where I had listed the payment terms.

“What if you add a review period? Both packs could reassess the contributions based on their actual income instead of treating the first estimate as permanent.”

I looked at the page again.

“That would give the smaller pack room to recover without allowing them to avoid their responsibilities.”

Davis nodded. “And it protects the larger pack from carrying the full cost indefinitely.”

I picked up my pen and began making notes.

“That actually works.”

“I know.”

I looked up sharply. “You don’t have to sound so pleased with yourself.”

He grinned. “I’m pleased that you finally agree with me.”

“I agreed with your suggestion, not with you.”

“Of course.”

I tried to hide my smile by looking down at the paper.

We spent almost an hour going through the assignment. We disagreed about the length of the review period and argued over how much flexibility the smaller pack should receive. For once, neither of us turned the discussion into a personal attack.

When Davis made a good point, I acknowledged it. When he disagreed with me, he explained why instead of dismissing my argument.

It was surprisingly easy to work with him when he behaved like this.

That realization made me uncomfortable.

I gathered my notes and began putting them into my folder.

Davis closed his laptop.

“Can I ask you something?”

I looked at him cautiously. “That depends on the question.”

“Do you always have to treat every attempt at conversation like a threat?”

My fingers stopped on the edge of my folder.

“Do I?”

“Yes. Sometimes I feel like I’m one wrong word away from you throwing something at me.”

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

He shook his head, but he was smiling.

“See? That’s exactly what I mean.”

I should have laughed with him, but his question had touched something I didn’t want to discuss.

“Trust isn’t something you can demand, Davis.”

His smile disappeared.

“I didn’t say I wanted you to trust me immediately.”

“Then don’t act as though I owe you a chance just because you’ve been nice to me a few times.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Good.”

He watched me for a moment, his expression growing serious.

“Did someone hurt you badly enough to make you believe everyone will eventually do the same?”

My heart skipped.

For a moment, I couldn’t move.

I had expected him to tease me or argue with me. I hadn’t expected him to ask something that came so close to the truth.

I looked at Davis, and the words nearly escaped my mouth.

You hurt me.

I could have told him about the wedding, the years I spent trying to earn his love, and the night I died believing I had never meant anything to him.

But he was looking at me with the same confused expression he always wore when my reactions made no sense to him.

He didn’t remember.

To him, we were two university students sharing an apartment because of a housing mistake.

To me, he was the man I had once loved enough to lose myself.

I looked away.

“You don’t know anything about my past, Davis.”

He remained quiet for a moment.

Then he said, “Then tell me why I keep dreaming about a future where you’re crying because of me.”