All Chapters of Love Didn’t Save Us. It Just Made the Fall Hurt More : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The room was too bright. Too clean. Elijah sat in his chair, staring at the photo I gave him like it was something he didn’t understand.Like it was fake.Like I was fake.I sat across from him. My hands were in my lap, fingers twisting around each other. I was sweating, but cold all over.> “I don’t remember this,” he said again. “I don’t remember you.”That hurt.More than I thought it would.I wanted to scream. I wanted to shake him and say, Don’t do this. Don’t forget me. But I didn’t.I just sat there. Watching him.He looked the same.Same dark hair. Same sharp cheekbones. Same serious eyes.But there was something missing.Something behind the eyes. The warmth.The man who used to look at me like I was the only thing that mattered he was gone.> “I know it’s hard,” I said quietly. “But we were real, Elijah. You weren’t alone.”He looked down at the photo again. His fingers touched the edge, slow, like he was afraid it might break.> “I woke up in a hospital in Paris,” he said.

They met in Gabe’s apartment the next day.It was small. Clean. Warm in a way Elijah’s hotel suite would never be. The walls were soft gray, with touches of green from the plants by the windows. There were books. Framed sketches. A photo of a dog, now gone.Nothing screamed wealth. It was the kind of place that felt lived in.Elijah stood by the door, coat still on.Gabe was in the kitchen, pouring coffee.“Sit down,” Gabe said, not looking at him.Elijah took off his coat and sat on the edge of the couch. The fabric smelled like cedar and something else faint and familiar.Gabe handed him a mug, then sat across from him at the small table.“Alright,” Gabe said. “Let’s get this straight.”Elijah nodded once. “Okay.”“We pretend to be together,” Gabe said. “In public. For the family. For the board. For the press. Two years, four months. No more.”“Fine.”“We live together. Not in your hotel. Somewhere real. People will be watching.”“Okay.”“But we’re not real,” Gabe said. “Not to each

Elijah stood in the kitchen the next morning, staring at the coffee machine like it was a puzzle he didn’t know how to solve.The sun was weak through the windows. Rain tapped lightly on the glass.He felt off. Like his skin didn’t quite fit right. Like the air was too thick around him.He didn’t sleep much. His dreams were strange. Sharp flashes. Heat. Screams. A hand gripping his arm. A voice calling his name not “Elijah.” Another name.Adam.That name kept coming back.He didn’t know who it belonged to. Or why it made his chest feel tight.“Coffee’s on the right,” Gabe said, walking in behind him.Elijah jumped slightly, then stepped aside.Gabe poured himself a cup. “Rough night?”“Yeah.”Gabe leaned against the counter, watching him. “Nightmares again?”Elijah nodded slowly. “They’re getting clearer.”“Anything new?”Elijah looked at him. “There’s a name. Adam.”Gabe froze.He looked down into his coffee like it held answers. “You knew an Adam?”“I don’t know,” Elijah said. “The

The room was too bright.Too white.Too quiet.Elijah sat on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, eyes on the window. Outside, the city moved fast. Inside, everything felt like it was stuck in slow motion.The therapist, Dr. Lorna Wu, sat across from him. Calm. Older. Glasses perched on the edge of her nose. She didn’t write anything. Not yet.She just watched him.“So,” she said softly, “you don’t want to be here.”Elijah shrugged. “I’m doing it for press. Gabe said it’ll look good.”“But you don’t care about looking good?”“No,” Elijah said. “I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be.”Dr. Wu nodded slowly. “That’s a fair place to start.”He looked at her.She didn’t smile fake. She didn’t press.That made it worse, somehow.He sighed and leaned back. “What do you want to know?”“Tell me what you remember,” she said.Elijah frowned. “You mean the crash?”“Anything.”He stared at the ceiling for a second. Then said, “I remember heat. Fire. Pain.”He swallowed.“I remember... drowning.

The next morning, Gabe stood at the kitchen counter, staring at the half-burnt toast in front of him. He hadn’t slept much. Elijah had fallen asleep on the couch. After the garden. After the tears. He hadn’t said much on the drive back. Just sat quietly, holding Gabe’s hand like it meant something. And it did. But it also scared Gabe. Because for a moment, he’d felt hope again. And hope was dangerous. Hope lied. His fingers gripped the edge of the counter. His chest felt heavy. His mind kept going back… not to last night… but to three years ago. To before the crash. To the last fight they ever had. The one they never got to finish It was raining hard that night. Gabe stood by the window, arms crossed, his jaw tight. Elijah was pacing, his hair wet, tie loose, anger in every step. “You went through my messages?” Elijah snapped. Gabe didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the storm outside. “Elijah” he said. “No,” Elijah cut in. “You don’t get to play calm. You brok