Ayla

I leaned my forehead against the car window, letting the cold glass sting my skin. The road to Da Vinci College was buzzing like always-students dragging suitcases, cars lined up, everyone rushing around like the world was ending.

Normally, I loved this kind of chaos. The first day of a new semester always felt like cracking open a fresh page. A clean slate.

But this time... I felt nothing.

Since morning, it was like something had slipped away from me-something I couldn't name. Even the sharp bite of autumn air couldn't pull me out of this hollow feeling.

"Miss Monroe, are you ready?" Nate, my driver, broke through my thoughts.

I gave him a small nod.

When the car stopped in the campus lot, I noticed everyone else stepping out like they owned the place. Some in leather jackets, some leaning against their bikes like they were starring in some college movie.

Me? I just wanted to keep my head down and get to class without being noticed.

I've had weird dreams since I was a kid. Always the same one, over and over. A cold river. A small hand gripping mine. A soft voice whispering one name to me: Hope.

I'd wake up every single time with my chest pounding and cold sweat running down my neck. But I never saw his face. It was always blurry.

The dream never went away. Even last night, it clung to me like a shadow I couldn't shake off.

Maybe it was just new semester jitters. Or maybe... a part of me really was missing.

I walked into Advanced Architecture. Funny thing was, I wasn't even an architecture major. I only signed up for the class as an elective because people said the professor was calm, the vibes were peaceful. Exactly what I needed right now.

I grabbed a seat by the window, opened my laptop, stacked two books for my elbow rest. Most of the time, I used books as a shield anyway-pretending to be busy so the world would just... leave me alone.

"Is this seat taken?"

I looked up.

A guy was standing there. Dark brown hair, messy but in that on-purpose way. Warm, tanned skin. And his eyes... silver-gray, sharp but not threatening. He carried a big sketch pad in one arm, his aura calm almost enchanted.

I nodded, and he sat down.

A few minutes later, before the professor showed up, he glanced at me. "You still like drawing flowers with the stems curving to the right?"

My heart practically jumped out of my chest. My pulse went crazy, like some hidden alarm went off inside me.

"What?" My voice shook.

He gave me a small smile. "Just a guess."

I forced a laugh. "Well... your guess is right. Do you always throw random guesses at strangers?"

"Sometimes," he said casually. "Name's River. And you?"

"Ayla."

When his hand touched mine, something sparked. Warmth, but also like a tiny electric shock crawling up my arm. My skin tingled, and I quickly pulled my hand back, pretending to mess with my laptop.

Even when the TA came in, my head wasn't in class. River's words wouldn't stop echoing in my mind.

How did he know about something I used to do as a kid?

Finally, Dr. Wyatt walked in-middle-aged, graying hair, soft-spoken but commanding enough to pull everyone's attention.

He started a lecture on 'Organic Architecture,' going into Frank Lloyd Wright, talking about how buildings should blend with landscapes.

I tried listening. I really did. But my thoughts drifted again, back to the river, back to that faceless boy from my dreams. Until-

"Miss Monroe."

I snapped my head up.

Dr. Wyatt was staring at me. "In your opinion, how does Wright balance the relationship between interior and exterior in his design of Fallingwater?"

My brain froze. Empty. "Uh... maybe... lots of windows?"

Silence. Every eye on me.

"Interesting," Dr. Wyatt said politely. "Though it could use a little more depth."

River leaned forward. "If I may, sir?"

Dr. Wyatt gestured for him to continue.

"Wright believed buildings shouldn't fight nature, but flow with it. In Fallingwater, he used local stone and concrete, creating terraces that echoed the rock formations by the river. It was his way of making the house feel like part of the landscape instead of something dropped on top of it."

Dr. Wyatt smiled. "An excellent answer, Mr...?"

"River Callahan, sir."

"Thank you, Mr. Callahan. Well said."

Class ended, and we walked out together. Under a maple tree, I found myself blurting, "You were amazing back there, the way you answered him."

He shrugged. "I just... like structures. Shapes. They make sense. Unlike people."

I let out a soft laugh. "Funny. I took this class to escape people. Architecture feels like... a way to redesign things. Maybe even redesign myself."

His gaze lingered on me-deep, understanding, almost too much. It made me uneasy, but at the same time... weirdly safe.

Then another voice cut through.

"Ayla."

I turned.

Rhett. My cousin. My overprotective, leather-jacket-wearing, knife-eyed shadow.

His stare flicked over River, head to toe. "What exactly do you want with my cousin?"

River stood slowly, calm as ever. "We were just talking."

"Talking?" Rhett narrowed his eyes. "Architecture student suddenly cozying up to Ayla? Sounds suspicious to me."

I groaned. "Seriously, Rhett? He literally did nothing."

Rhett ignored me. "I don't care about your intentions. I care about the consequences."

River didn't flinch. "I'm not here to hurt anyone."

The air tightened, tension crackling between them like static. My chest constricted.

"Enough!" I snapped. "Rhett, please. I can handle myself. I don't even know who I really am yet, so let me figure it out without you trying to control every step I take."

Rhett's jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything. His eyes, though, stayed hard as stone.

I couldn't take it anymore. I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked away, leaving both of them behind.

My legs carried me fast through the hallways, my hands trembling from anger at Rhett-and from something else.

It was River. From the way he looked at me. From the strange familiarity in everything he said.

That half-smile. Those silver eyes. The comment about the flowers. All of it felt... too close to the dreams that haunted me since childhood.

This was odd. I didn't know him. I was Ayla. That was the only truth I had.

So why, every time I thought of his gaze, I heared a voice whispering inside my head.

'Never say never.'

I stopped, staring at my reflection in the glass doors of the campus.

Why did it feel like... I'd lived another life before this one?

Ayla

I slammed the girls' bathroom door so hard it echoed across the tiled walls. Two girls at the mirror scattered instantly, as if even my anger could burn. I marched into the last stall, dropped onto the seat, and buried my face in my hands.

Why did Rhett always have to ruin everything?

Today was supposed to be simple. First day of the new semester, new faces, new energy. But no-Rhett had barged into my space, hovering like a shadow I could never escape. Always protective. damn controlling. He 's always too much.

I groaned, pressing my palms into my eyes. But no matter how hard I tried to push it away, River's gaze lingered. That steady, unreadable gray stare. It had warmed me and unsettled me all at once, like he could see deeper than I wanted anyone to.

I didn't even know him. But it didn't feel like meeting a stranger. It felt like remembering someone I'd lost.

"This is insane," I whispered. "Why do I even care?"

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Five missed calls from Rhett. My chest tightened, but I hit the lock screen and shoved it back. If I kept answering him, I'd lose myself completely.

I reached for toilet paper. Empty roll. Of course. Damn it.

"Unbelievable." I tilted my head back and laughed bitterly. The universe really was mocking me.

I texted Yuna: West bathroom. Out of tissue. Help.

Less than ten seconds later she texted back: On my way.

That's Yuna for me-like she's got 5G wired straight into her brain. My best friend's basically Pietro Maximoff, only calmer.

If Rhett was a chain, Yuna was the bolt cutter. She was never hesitated.

She slipped a packet of tissues under the door a minute later. "If you're gonna cry, at least don't do it somewhere that smells like expired disinfectant."

I opened the stall, snatched it, and muttered, "I wasn't crying. Maybe a little."

"Rhett again?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

I nodded. "He humiliated me. In front of someone new. And the worst part... I can't stop thinking about him."

Yuna arched her brow. "Different? You mean that guy? River?"

I froze, surprised 'Wait... you know him?'

"Please. Everyone knows him. He's that quiet, mysterious type, and half the girls on campus have been whispering about him all morning...and apparently, we're doing it too."

I chewed on my lip. So it wasn't just me. But what I felt for him... it wasn't normal attraction. It was deeper, almost like an invisible string tugging me closer to him."

By the time we reached the cafeteria, I knew exactly where to look. River was by the window, laughing softly with friends. The sunlight hit his face, making his storm-gray eyes shine like polished steel.

And then he looked up.

Our eyes collided, and the air shifted. My chest fluttered, a smile threatening at the edges of my lips-until River dropped his gaze, breaking the connection.

The rejection stung sharper than it should have.

"He's avoiding me," I whispered.

"Or he's avoiding Rhett," Yuna said. "And honestly? That's smart."

I barely had time to reply before Rhett stormed in, flanked by Reese and Reid like they were his personal bodyguards. He dropped into the seat beside me, his expression thunderous.

"You didn't answer my calls," he said coldly.

"I was eating," I replied, forcing my tone flat.

His gaze slid straight to River. My pulse spiked, already knowing what was coming.

"Stay away from him, Ayla. I don't like the way he looks at you."

The clatter of my spoon against the tray echoed through the room. "For God's sake, can you stop controlling me? He's not your problem!"

"He is. I promised your father-"

"There it is again," I snapped, rising to my feet. "Your promise. Do you even realize what it feels like? It's not protection, Rhett. It's a cage."

Silence rippled around the cafeteria as I pushed back from the table. "I'm not your bird in a gilded cage. If you really want to protect me, then let me breathe."

I stormed out, and Yuna hurried to keep up.

"Where are we going?"

"Out. I need a drink."

Her brows shot up. "You mean, like... a bar? Ayla, Rhett will lose it-"

"Let him lose it. I've already lost enough."

**

The club pulsed with neon light and heavy bass that rattled my chest. I downed one shot. Then another. Then another. My head spun deliciously.

"Ayla, stop!" Yuna tried to snatch the glass.

I laughed, my voice slurred. "Relax. I'm fine."

That was when I saw him.

River stood in the shadows, dressed in a simple black hoodie, but his eyes-those stormy gray eyes-were fixed on me.

I smiled stupidly, my steps unsteady as I whispered, "River... it's you, isn't it?"

He didn't answer.

I couldn't tell who moved first, but in the next breath, the distance between us disappeared. Our lips met-what should've been a conscious kiss twisted into something reckless, wild, tangled between the haze of alcohol and a desire I couldn't control. All I knew was that River kissed me back.

Then he broke away, breath shaky, eyes trembling as they searched mine. "Ayla... you're drunk. You need to go home."

I shook my head stubbornly, throwing my arms around him. "I don't want to go home. Home isn't a home-it's just a cage." My laugh came out broken, almost bitter.

I slid lower against him, pressed into his warmth, breathing in that intoxicating scent. God, he smelled so good-clean, warm, addictive. I wanted to stay there forever.

After that, everything turned into a blur-lights, sounds, even the lingering taste on my lips. The world spun, and all I could feel was the steady strength of River carrying me through the crowd.

The rest was a blur. And then darkness.

**

My hand curled around something warm and comforting. At the same time, I heard a voice. Soft-like I'd heard it before.

"Let me help you."

"Where am I?" I pressed my hand to my temple, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

"My apartment," the voice replied.

I hiccupped loudly before I managed to ask again, "Is that you, River?"

"Mhm..."

I tried to stand, but my legs gave out and I collapsed back onto the soft surface beneath me.

"I think I'm gonna..."

The chill in the air made the nausea in my stomach even worse. Something was pushing up my throat, demanding to come out.

I threw up, and after that everything went hazy again. The only person I could think of was him.

His silhouette moved too fast for my half-open eyes to follow. Then I felt fresh clothes against my skin, soft and clean.

"Does this feel better?"

I nodded clumsily. "Yeah... like you. You smell so good. I like it."

"Thanks. Now you need to rest, okay?" River laid me back down on the bed.

But I didn't want to let him go. My hand reached for his, holding on.

"Please don't leave. Stay with me, River."

I felt the warmth of his body close to mine. I'd been craving this tenderness for so long, and River was finally giving it to me.

If this was real, I never wanted to let it go.

River

"Drink this. You just threw up." I held out a glass of water I'd grabbed from the nightstand.

Ayla took it, sipped once, then handed it back with an unsteady hand. She was completely out of control when drunk, and honestly, I was lucky she hadn't ended up with some guy who would've taken advantage of her.

What I didn't expect was her hand tugging me closer-so close our faces were barely an inch apart. Her heavy-lidded eyes dropped from my face down to my neck.

My eyes widened when her lips brushed against my Adam's Apple.

God. This was the last thing I saw coming. My brain went haywire, my throat going dry as saliva slid down automatically.

I couldn't let myself lose it. But the fire in me burned hotter, twisting my thoughts. A low sound escaped my throat as her hand slid across my chest. Then lower, to my waist.

This can't happen, River.

"Ayla, stop... you're still drunk." I pulled her hand away.

"You don't want me, River?" she whispered.

My sanity snapped back. I cupped her face gently, forcing her eyes open just a little wider.

"Not now. Not like this."

"Coward!" she shoved me, frustration lacing her slurred voice.

That was better than me giving in to a desire that had no business surfacing tonight.

"Say that again when you're sober, Hope."

I left her in my room, making it through the storm of temptation by taking a long hot shower and crashing on the couch in the living room.

**

By the time Ayla came out the next morning, I was setting up the space heater. The autumn air bit sharply even with the sun climbing higher.

I'd been up since six, cleaning up the studio rental to make it feel a little more comfortable for her. The things I'd asked Travis for were already on the table-painkillers for the hangover, bagels, and warm buttered toast. The size 4 dress she'd brought with her was neatly folded over a chair.

"Good morning... River," she said quietly.

"Morning. Since you're fully awake now, let's eat." I turned to face her.

Her expression shifted instantly-panic flashing across her face as her eyes darted around, noticing the clothes she wore weren't hers. Her cheeks flushed red, and she ducked her head. I walked over slowly, handing her a glass of water laced with Aerex.

"Take this after you eat. Hangover meds."

She took it carefully. "Who... changed my clothes?"

"I did," I admitted without hesitation. "You were half-conscious and your clothes were ruined from throwing up. Luckily, it didn't get on the bed."

She stayed quiet, eyes downcast, embarrassed. I didn't want to push it, so I left her alone long enough to shower.

By the time I came out in a plain T-shirt and sweats, my phone was full of notifications from Travis. One stood out-the results of his background check on Ayla Monroe.

Or Hope Marsh.

My childhood friend. The girl who once saved me when I was just a scared kid with a heavy Japanese accent. I'd spent the last two years searching for her, and finally, here she was-on this very campus.

At first, I wasn't sure it was her. But the surgical scar on her stomach had confirmed it. I remembered the day clearly: her appendix had burst in elementary school, and she'd written me a letter before going into surgery.

We'd been inseparable back then. She was the one who made me braver after that incident on the bridge, the one who became my first love. All I wanted now was to prove to her that I wasn't the same timid boy anymore.

"River?"

I turned quickly. She stood at the doorway, drowning in my oversized shirt and rolled-up sweatpants. Strange, but kind of cute.

"What is it?"

"Did I... do anything embarrassing last night?"

I knew this question would come. And if she ever found out she'd almost broken my self-control, her guilt would swallow her whole.

So I lied. "No. You were fine."

"Do you have my phone?" She glanced around, clearly anxious.

"It got crushed under a car tire when we caught the Uber."

I showed her the plastic bag with the nearly destroyed phone inside. Her face paled, panic written all over it. I handed her mine. "Use this if you need to."

She grabbed it and immediately called someone-Yuna, her best friend.

"Yeah... I'm safe. I'm at a friend's place. I'll explain later. Can you pick me up? I'll send the location."

When she hung up, her eyes found mine again.

"I... I don't remember much about last night. Can you tell me what happened at the club?"

I kept my tone steady, calm. "I was there too. You came in with your friend, looking tense, like you'd just fought with someone. You sat at the bar and started drinking. A lot. I saw you from across the room, and before long, you passed out. I carried you out before anyone else could try anything."

I didn't mention the kiss. That was something she didn't need to know-not yet. When the right time came, I wanted her to remember it on her own.

She studied me, doubt flickering in her gaze. "So... you just happened to be there?"

"Yeah. My idiot friend had the keys to this apartment. I went to meet him." No way was I telling her I'd followed her there. Not yet.

She fell silent, her eyes drifting to the breakfast spread. "Thank you, River. You didn't have to do all this."

I sat across from her. "Why'd you drink that much?"

Ayla sighed. "My cousin, Rhett. He's... overprotective. Way too much. He told me I wasn't allowed to be near you. Not even as a friend. I got frustrated. So I drank."

The name hit me. Rhett. Travis had already mentioned him during the research. We'd met yesterday and clashed immediately. Dominant, controlling-that was him.

"I feel weird," she admitted. "But when I talk to you... I don't know. I feel comfortable. Like I've known you before."

Her words stopped my heart for a beat. If only she knew how much I remembered-every second we'd shared. Why was it only me who remembered?

I forced a smile. "Maybe we have met before."

She gave a small nod, nibbling at her toast. "I've never been drunk before."

"And don't do it again," I said too quickly. Way too quickly.

Her wide eyes lifted to mine. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I cleared my throat. "I mean... you're not the type who needs alcohol to run from your problems. There are other ways."

Her gaze lingered on me before a small smile curved her lips. "Alright, Mr. Wise Guy."

Before I could reply, the doorbell rang. Ayla jumped to her feet, panic written all over her face. "That's Yuna."

I grabbed the fresh clothes Travis had bought and handed them to her. "Here. So you'll feel more comfortable going home."

She took them, her voice soft. "Thanks. Again."

At the door, she paused, turning back.

"River... I'm glad you were there last night. I don't know what would've happened if it wasn't you."

"I'll always be there if you need me," I answered without hesitation.

She smiled faintly and left.

The door clicked shut, but her scent still lingered. I sat back down, pulling up the digital file Travis had sent. The records of Hope Freissy Marsh. Birth date. Medical history. And one detail that stood out-

2015: Mild head trauma. Possible effect: long-term memory loss.

So that was it. She really had forgotten me.

My phone buzzed-Dad calling. He'd want me at Thanksgiving again. Half-Japanese or not, he never let go of Mom's traditions.

"I'll be there, Dad. Don't worry," I said quickly before he could start.

I hung up, only to hear a knock on the door. Travis.

"Everything's handled, River," he said, walking in. "How long do you want this place rented?"

"One year. We're staying."

His brows rose. "So... she really is Ayla Monroe. Hope Marsh?"

I stared at the door she'd just walked through. Memories of our childhood, her handwritten letters, and old scars twisted in my chest.

"She's the girl you've been searching for, isn't she? The one you... love?"

I didn't answer. I didn't need to. The truth was written all over me.