Agnes Lewis stared at her reflection like it was someone else's.
The woman in the mirror was beautiful—she could admit that. Strong cheekbones. Smart eyes. A poised mouth. But the eyes didn't hold memories. They were hollow mirrors, not windows.
The nurses had filled in the blanks:
There had been a shooting.
She was the victim.
But she had survived.
Except now… her mind was a half-built house. Rooms were missing. Names were distant echoes.
Her father came every day. Brought flowers. Told stories about her childhood.
But even he felt like a distant relative from a dream she couldn't verify.
There were no photos of her mother.
She had asked once. Mr. Smith had stiffened and said, "She passed when you were thirteen. You cried for three days."
Agnes nodded.
She didn't remember the crying. Or the woman.
But she remembered a garden with yellow hibiscus. The scent of jasmine on an old scarf. And once, a man's voice in her head, calm and warm—
"Then we fight together."
She clutched her sheets when it came. Every time. Her fingers trembled.
"Who are you?" she whispered into the night.
Across town, Majek pushed a delivery cart through the humid alley behind a hotel.
He was down to two pairs of trousers, both torn at the hem. His cousin's landlady had raised the rent. And the court hearing had been delayed again—pending new "testimony" from Agnes.
Only... she hadn't spoken.
Not one word in his defense.
He didn't blame her.
She didn't remember.
But the pain of being forgotten was deeper than prison.
Worse than the accusation.
He hadn't tried to contact her. What was the point?
He was a suspect. A burden. A ghost.
And yet... he still passed by the hospital every other week.
Never close. Just near enough.
To feel hope bruise his ribs.
Two Weeks Later – St. Bede's Hospital
"Doctor... I think I'm starting to remember things."
Dr. Aina looked up, surprised. Agnes was sitting straighter, her eyes focused.
"What kind of things?"
"Moments. Sounds. A voice. A café. The scent of rain on concrete."
"Do you see faces?"
Agnes hesitated. "One. Sometimes. But not clearly. He's tall. His voice feels... safe."
Dr. Aina made a note.
"Anything alarming?"
"No. But I think... I think I cared about him."
"Do you remember his name?"
"No."
"But your heart reacts?"
Agnes nodded. "Every time."
That afternoon, she asked to go for a walk.
The nurse was hesitant, but agreed—only around the courtyard.
Agnes took slow, deliberate steps around the garden trail, inhaling the hibiscus blooms, listening to the breeze.
And then she saw him.
Across the street.
Majek.
He wasn't standing. He was just walking past like any other day, laundry bag slung over one shoulder, head down, headphones in.
But her body reacted.
Her knees buckled slightly. Her breath shortened.
Her fingers clutched the gate rail, and something in her chest screamed:
"It's him."
But she said nothing.
Just watched him fade into the crowd.
Later that night
"Daddy, who is Majek?"
Mr. Smith froze.
They were sitting in her room. He had just brought her dinner.
"Why are you asking?"
"I keep hearing that name in my head. It makes my chest feel heavy."
Mr. Smith set the tray down slowly.
"You knew him. Before the incident. He was an employee."
"That's all?"
His silence was too long.
Agnes narrowed her eyes. "Was he at the café?"
"I don't think we should talk about that."
"But I need to know."
Mr. Smith stood. "You're healing, Agnes. Let the past stay buried."
She watched him leave with the distinct feeling that he was hiding something.
And she hated secrets.
Meanwhile…
Lami sat in a wine bar, smirking as he scrolled through pictures on his phone—photos from months ago. One caught his attention: Agnes and Majek standing near the elevator, their hands brushing.
He zoomed in.
"I warned you," he whispered. "But you didn't listen."
A voice behind him interrupted his thoughts.
"You're pushing your luck."
Lami turned. It was Aunt Eniola, Agnes' godmother and one of SMG's legal advisors.
She sat across from him without asking permission.
"I know what you did, Lami. Agnes may not remember—but I do. And if you think silence is protection, you're wrong."
Lami sipped his wine calmly. "Then prove it."
She smiled. "Oh, I plan to."
The Next Morning – Hospital Lobby
Agnes was sitting in the lobby when Aunt Eniola arrived.
"Aunty," she greeted warmly, surprised.
"My girl," the woman said, hugging her. "You're looking stronger."
"I still don't remember much. But... I think I remember someone."
Eniola sat beside her.
"Majek?"
Agnes flinched. "Yes. You know him?"
"I do. He's not what they say. And you loved him once, you know."
The words hit her like a wave.
"I did?"
Eniola nodded. "And he loved you. But you were both afraid. Until the day he wasn't anymore."
Agnes looked down. "Why hasn't he come to see me?"
"He's trying to protect you. From pain. From scandal. From your father."
"I need to see him."
"Are you sure you're ready?"
Agnes nodded. "I want to know... if my heart's memory is stronger than my head's silence."
That Evening – Laundry Depot, Surulere
Majek was folding shirts when someone tapped his shoulder.
He turned—and dropped the cloth in his hands.
Agnes.
Standing there.
Real.
Alive.
Eyes wide.
She looked... like his entire world stitched back together.
"Agnes?"
"I remember your voice," she said softly.
He stared at her.
"My name is Majekodunmi Adebayo," he whispered. "But you used to call me Majek."
"I don't remember everything yet," she said. "But I remember how you made me feel. Safe. Seen."
He stepped forward, barely daring to breathe. "Do you remember... the café?"
She shook her head. "No. But I remember the pain after. I remember waking up feeling like something beautiful had been torn away."
Tears lined his eyes. "I thought I lost you."
"You didn't," she said. "Not completely."
They stood there, inches apart.
And then, for the first time since the gunshot shattered their bond—
Agnes leaned forward and hugged him.
A full, unguarded embrace.
And he held her.
The laundry depot disappeared. The streets vanished.
For those few moments... there was only them.
Final Scene – Mr. Smith's Office
The phone rang.
Mr. Smith picked up.
"She found him," Eniola's voice said. "And she remembers."
Mr. Smith closed his eyes.
"What do I do now?"
"You let her live her life. Or you'll lose her for real this time."