Chapter 5 The Brother’s Welcome

The rain had stopped by afternoon, leaving the glass walls streaked with silver trails that caught the light. Elena sat curled on the edge of the sofa, a blanket around her legs, flipping through the same magazine she had been pretending to read for an hour. The penthouse felt larger when Adrian was gone, filled only with the hum of the air vents and the occasional whisper of the city below.

She had thought silence might bring comfort, but it pressed on her instead, reminding her of how little she remembered. Every corner of the room felt familiar in form but foreign in feeling, as though she were trespassing in a stranger’s life.

The doorbell rang.

For a moment, she didn’t move. Adrian had not mentioned anyone visiting. When she finally rose and opened the door, she found Julian standing there, a faint smile tugging at his mouth and a bouquet of white lilies in hand.

“Elena,” he said softly, almost as if testing her name. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“It’s fine.” Her voice came out smaller than she intended. “Adrian isn’t here.”

“I know,” he said. “I just wanted to check up on you.”

He stepped inside without waiting, his presence immediately altering the air. He looked like his brother but softer, less guarded. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, and his tie was loosened as if he had left the formality of his day at the door. His eyes, however, held something sharper, a quiet awareness that saw more than he spoke.

Elena gestured toward the living room. “I was just... here.”

He smiled, setting the flowers on the table. “You sound exactly like I do when I have nothing to do.”

She found herself laughing, brief but genuine. It was strange, the way it slipped out so easily. With Adrian, laughter felt like a test she never passed.

Julian walked to the window, hands in his pockets, watching the thin mist rise from the streets below. “I forget how high up this place is. You’d think you could see the whole world from here.”

“It doesn’t feel like that,” she said quietly. “It feels more like I’m shut out of it.”

He turned, studying her face. “You remember much yet?”

“Bits,” she said, shaking her head. “They don’t make sense. Some nights I dream things that feel real, and other times I wake up not knowing where I am.”

He nodded, eyes steady. “That must be hard.”

“It’s like living in someone else’s life.” She hesitated, searching his expression. “You knew me before, didn’t you?”

His smile faltered for just a moment. “Of course. We’ve known each other for years.”

“But we weren’t close?”

Julian tilted his head slightly, as though choosing his words. “You were... different then. Focused. You didn’t let people in easily.”

The words stung, even if he hadn’t meant them to. “And Adrian?”

He looked away, toward the rain-slick skyline. “Adrian always gets what he wants.”

The silence stretched. The hum of the refrigerator filled the space between them, oddly loud. Elena tried to remember the man she had supposedly loved enough to marry. She could picture his face clearly, could even recall his cologne, but the emotions tied to those memories refused to return. It was like looking at a painting she’d once loved, now behind glass she couldn’t touch.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked finally.

“Sure,” Julian said. “If you’re making one for yourself.”

In the kitchen, she moved mechanically, filling the kettle and setting cups on the counter. She could feel his gaze on her, gentle but attentive, like he was studying a piece of art he didn’t trust his memory of. When the water boiled, she poured and slid a cup toward him.

“Thank you,” he said. “Still the same way you used to make it.”

She froze. “How would you know that?”

He smiled faintly. “You made tea for me once. Years ago. You don’t remember?”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember much of anything.”

Julian sipped his tea, watching her over the rim of the cup. “Maybe that’s a blessing.”

She frowned. “Why would you say that?”

He set the cup down carefully. “Because sometimes remembering doesn’t make things better.”

Something in his tone made her chest tighten. “Julian,” she said slowly, “was I happy before the accident?”

His expression softened. “You had moments of it.”

That wasn’t an answer, and she knew it. She wanted to ask more, but her throat ached. The sound of the rain outside had faded completely, replaced by the hush of clouds drifting beyond the windows. She wanted to tell him that silence frightened her, but it felt childish, so she kept it inside.

Julian leaned back on the couch, looking comfortable in a way Adrian never did. He reached for the photo album on the coffee table, flipping it open. The glossy pages caught the light, showing images of a smiling bride and groom in elegant poses.

“You looked beautiful,” he said softly.

She leaned closer, her fingers tracing the curve of her own frozen smile. “Do I look happy?”

He hesitated. “You look... composed.”

The word felt cold. She turned another page. In one photo, she was laughing, her head tilted slightly back, Adrian beside her, expression unreadable.

Julian’s gaze lingered on the image longer than necessary. Then he shut the book gently and set it down. “You shouldn’t force the memories,” he said. “They’ll come when they’re ready.”

“They feel like ghosts,” she whispered. “They walk through me but never stay.”

Julian said nothing, but his fingers drummed lightly on his knee, the rhythm uneven. He seemed torn between comfort and confession.

Before either could speak again, his phone buzzed. He checked the screen, frown flickering briefly, then stood. “I have to go. I didn’t mean to stay this long.”

Elena followed him to the door. “Will you tell Adrian you came?”

“I will,” he said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. “Try not to let this place get to you. It’s easy to lose yourself up here.”

When the door clicked shut, the penthouse felt colder. She walked back to the living room, the lilies gleaming pale against the marble table. Their scent filled the air—sweet, almost cloying. She didn’t know why it unsettled her.

She sat down, pressing her palms to her knees. Her thoughts chased themselves in circles. Something about Julian’s visit felt off, though he had said nothing openly strange. It was the way he looked at her, like she was both a person he missed and a story he didn’t want to retell.

Her gaze drifted to the wedding portrait above the fireplace. Adrian’s arm around her waist, his hand possessive, her smile faint. She reached out to trace the edge of the frame, fingertips trembling.

“Who was I?” she whispered.

The answer didn’t come, only the low hum of the city and the lingering scent of lilies.

And then, somewhere inside her mind, something flickered—an image, gone before she could catch it. A man laughing, not Adrian. Her own laughter tangled with his.

Elena pressed her fingers to her temples. “Stop,” she whispered, as if she could command her thoughts into silence. But the warmth of that half-memory refused to fade.

She didn’t know whether it frightened her or called to her.