Chapter 1

Tania's POV 

“Fuck you're tight. On budget of course.” I whispered as I did my monthly budget and I realised it'd be to my best interest if I died. It had been 3 years since I went outside after my rapist boyfriend died. Did I mention I was in jail for murder too? And anyways fast forwards to 10 years later, I just got diagnosed with a killer disease.

Unlike others this didn't eat the brain, liver or other parts. This disease ate me.My brain decides when I’m me and when I’m someone else, and sometimes I might do things I don’t even remember. My doctor called it Cognitive Identity Regression Disorder CIRD for short. Fancy name, right? Sounds like something they’d make into a N*****x drama and kill the lead in episode three.

Dr. Harlow sat across from me, tie too bright, hair slightly mussed like he’d had a bad fight with his comb. He had that “I’m sorry to tell you, but I really am about to ruin your life” look down to a science.

“Tania,” he started, voice calm but heavy, “the condition is progressive. You’ll have memory gaps. Sometimes you’ll forget who you are or what you’ve done.”

I leaned back in the chair and crossed my arms. “So, like, I could wake up tomorrow thinking I’m a barista named Karen? Or better an I*******m influencer with a weird obsession with succulents?”

He blinked. Then he tried the professional nod. “Not exactly. It’s… more severe. You may not recognize people close to you, and your brain might act on instincts or memories you no longer remember consciously.”

I laughed. It sounded hollow even to me. “Great. My brain’s going to betray me like a bad ex-boyfriend. I love it.”

“Do you have a family?” he asked.

My stomach twisted. “Family? You mean Damian?” I almost spat the word. “Yeah. The man I married because I thought love was a thing that existed. He’s… supportive in his own way.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t ask what that meant. Smart man.

I tried to imagine what it would be like to be me in a few months. To wake up and not recognize my daughter. My hands itched with panic. My life was supposed to be something else.

“Treatment is not very possible, but….” he continued. “We’ll monitor memory, you’ll journal, cognitive exercises…”

“Journal,” I repeated. “Because I’m definitely going to remember to journal the day my brain tries to murder me without asking.”

He didn’t laugh. Figures. Doctors stop laughing somewhere between med school and mortgage payments.

I left his office feeling like I’d been punched in the stomach by a polite man in a bright tie. Outside, the city was glaring and loud, but it all felt distant. Like I was watching through a fogged window.

***

The person who meant the most to me, my daughter, was all I had after my father passed away. It had been 10 years or so since I got married, and my dad passed away few years ago.

My daughter was so tiny just yesterday. She was tiny and furious, like she already knew the world was going to suck. I thought that maybe having her would finally make Damian look at me like I mattered. Like maybe love could be earned.

It didn’t work. He didn’t even stay the night. Said he had “meetings.” I didn’t cry, not in front of the nurses, but I swore under my breath. One day he’d see. One day he’d realize what he’d lost.

I tried to hold onto hope anyway. I had to. Because what else do you have when your brain might betray you and you feel like your husband already has?

***

I walked home in the afternoon sun,I pressed my palm against my temple. If I held hard enough, maybe I could keep myself in place. Maybe I could remember Tania Ohana, now Tania Ohana Reeve the girl who grew up running through Moonhaven City with scraped knees and big dreams.

The memories weren't all clear but I still had some, I remember shifting for the first time at thirteen. Everyone else had to wait until eighteen. I was a freak, but the kind everyone secretly admired. My father, a researcher who believed in courage and justice, told me I had to use it wisely. My mother had died young. Too young. My father tried, but there were gaps where love should’ve been. I filled those gaps with books, with ambition, with myself. Medicine became my way to make sense of the world. To fix the things I couldn’t control.

At twenty-two, I walked into the hospital as an idealistic doctor. I stayed late, cared for patients no one else wanted. That’s where I met Damian Reeve, billionaire, heir to an empire I didn’t want to touch. Cold golden eyes, the kind that looked like they could strip your soul bare. He fascinated me and scared me at the same time. I fell for him anyway. I was naive.

I thought love would make him stay. It didn’t.

***

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Damian loved perfection the way some people love cats. Cold, distant perfection.

I dropped my bag and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to brace myself. Amara.

“Mommy!”

I blinked. My heart jumped. She sounded happy. I ran toward her, arms wide.

She barreled past me.

I froze.

My eyes followed her. She didn’t stop at my chest. She didn’t even glance my way.

She ran straight into another woman’s arms.

“Mommy, I missed you!” my daughter shouted, laughing.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

The woman looked down at her and smiled. “I missed you too, baby.”

I stepped closer, heart racing, brain screaming. Maybe it was a memory lapse. Maybe I had forgotten something. Maybe this was my fault.

Her eyes met mine for the briefest second, and her smile faltered just enough. Like she knew who I was. And didn’t care.

And in that mo

ment, the floor I thought I’d built my life on turned to ice under my feet.