Reminders Of Him Novels & Stories

Because somewhere deep down he knew the truth was going to bite him with force, he wouldn't be able to take it. In that very moment, memories of them together flooded his mind. Of them together as long as he could remember the past years with her. There were precious gems to him that he couldn't dare forget. He wanted to say a million things to her. There were millions of memories of them together, which he wanted to remind her of. A million memories of them together laughing, crying, playing, working on her homework, having dinner and lunch, him teaching her, her making fun of him, them sharing the bus to school—all those memories and moments spent with her flashed before his eyes in a blin

I suspect the person whose voice I recognize and whom I have met several times has a significant role in my past. But that man expects me to recall my past on my own. But how do I go about doing that? I need something to serve as a reminder. Someone needs to remind me. And I'm confident that man can assist me. I have no idea who he is, but I know he can help me remember. But I know I won't be able to see the CEO. I also know that because of his position, he is difficult to reach. The CEO is swamped with work, and even an appointment with me is out of the question.

I tried to remember any little detail but all I could remember was reaching for my face: I looked up at him in excitement that had me pausing for a second. “What do you remember?” He asked before I could question my behavior. “I had a device on my face, do you remember anything?” I asked as my real personality made an appearance. “Do you not remember all the good times we had?” He asked lowly. I blinked a few times as a small blush formed as the memories of him had me feeling bashful. “You remember them?” He asked as he took a step towards me. I opened my mouth to speak but shut it in an instant as I realized I didn’t remember them.

Some days I would wake up in terror that it was all a dream and never existed, but I would flip through our photos and feel at little more as ease. At the end of the day, they weren’t just mine, even if he didn’t remember anything. They were his as well. His memories and he had a right to decide to look at them or not. So I sent him a quick message with the attached folders. Closing my laptop, I had strapped on my arm and headed out. Now, I found myself at two in the afternoon, sitting at an old Irish pub somewhere in New York on a fucking Wednesday, filling the numbness in my heart with alcohol.

“You shouldn’t apologize for what you don’t understand.” “I wasn’t apologizing for you,” I said softly. “I was apologizing because I know how it feels to lose someone you can’t get back.” Something flickered in his expression — the smallest spark of surprise. He turned away again, setting the rose down with care. “You should get some rest, Miss Nova.” I nodded and began to leave. But just as I reached the door, he said quietly, almost to himself: “Some reminders hurt less than forgetting.” The words followed me down the corridor like a whisper.

She said and I was stunned. “Damnit. Let me go back there. Let me fucking see her!” A loud voice boomed from somewhere out in the distance, and I immediately flashed back to the adonis of a man with steely hazel green eyes and the body of a warrior. Cain. My… My Cain. I remembered. Maybe not everything but. I remembered him. “Cain…” I whispered out. “Wait… Remmie, do you remember?” Gabi asked, squeezing my hand a little too hard.

The kind of look that said he remembered. And maybe… that it wasn’t over.

It is as if his image is imprinted on every surface of my consciousness, a constant reminder of the intricate tapestry that has woven our lives together. During a brief respite, I find myself lost in memories of our shared journey. I remember the day I first laid eyes on him, a stranger battered and injured. The memory is vivid, as if etched into my mind with indelible ink. He had been lying there, his form fragile and broken, yet his presence had carried an air of strength and resilience. The sight of him had sent a pang of concern through me, his condition critical and his vulnerability stark.

he reminisced. “You still remember what happened?” He looked down, “I try not to … but sometimes it comes in bits and pieces like flashes of images and if I’m not careful I could get sucked into it and relive it all over again.” “Wow … that was a long time ago, can you still remember it in detail?” He rubbed his eyes and tried to erase the images that were creeping into his mind. “I’m sorry … let’s talk about something else, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories … is it true that you have a photographic memory?”

Iris stood at the end, wearing the dress she wore the day my memory was erased. “ Do you remember me now?.” she asked stretching her hand for me, I stepped forward one foot in fire and the other in bloom, I ran to her holding her hand the moment I got to her. Through time, through pain, every door that gave been close in my memory. Faces I had erased, voices I had silence. My father, my mother and my son. And then I noticed a door I had never see before, I opened it and behind the door was Wren, he smiled and said “ still think this is your mind Callum?”