Chapter 211: Chapter 211 Fragments of a Forgotten Past
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Nancy walked through her own front door well past eleven.
Dinner had been stiff. Uncomfortable. Every spoonful felt like swallowing glass.
"Nancy, why do not you stay the night?" Carol had suggested gently, her voice soft and hopeful.
Nancy had stopped calling her "Mom" weeks ago. She could not bring herself to say the word anymore. "Uncle, Aunt , I would rather go back to my own place."
Carol’s face fell. "Oh. Alright then. Frank, drive your sister home."
Frank nodded. "Come on, Nancy."
Nancy wanted to say no. She wanted to call an Uber and escape. But in the end, she said nothing and followed him out.
When they pulled up to her apartment, she unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle.
The locks clicked down.
"Nancy. I want to talk to you." Frank’s voice was calm, but it had that edge to it. The one that said I am older, I know better. "I know we lied to you. I know that hurt. But we did it because we care about you."
Nancy’s lashes fluttered. "I know. I do not blame you."
"Good." Frank paused. Then he kept going, careful and slow. "But Nancy, I heard you are seeing someone. A man from a powerful family. But he has a kid."
His tone shifted. Got heavier. "I do not think you should settle for a divorced man with baggage. You have never been married. You deserve better. What if the kid’s mother comes back one day? Where does that leave you?"
Nancy’s brow furrowed. Something cold settled in her chest.
She had never noticed before how much Frank’s concern felt like control.
"Frank. I hear you. But I am an adult. I can make my own decisions."
Frank did not push. He knew better than to dig the hole deeper. "As long as you know. Just be careful."
He unlocked the doors. "It is late. You should head up."
Nancy climbed out without another word. She did not say goodnight.
The moment she got inside her apartment, she locked the door behind her and pulled out her phone.
She typed fast, before she could talk herself out of it.
[Dr. Freya, are you available tomorrow? I would like to schedule another session.]
The next day, Nancy was back in Dr. Freya’s chair. Her palms were sweating.
The room smelled like lavender. Soft music played in the background, slow and steady. It was supposed to be calming. It was not working.
"Just breathe," Dr. Freya said. "Let yourself drift."
Nancy closed her eyes. She heard Dr. Freya counting, low and even. It pulled her under like water.
Then the darkness behind her eyes changed. It turned warm. Amber. Like sunlight through a glass of whiskey.
She was sitting in a car. Leather seats. The hum of an engine. The faint smell of pine.
A hand reached toward her. Long fingers. A silver watch on the wrist. The man wore a dark suit. His face was sharp, clean, striking.
He looked like Yardley. But younger. Softer.
"Where do you live?" His voice was cool. "I will take you home."
Nancy’s heart jumped. "Mr. Wolfe?"
He adjusted his jacket. "What happened today—I can take responsibility. We will date. After you graduate, we will get married. Alright?"
He tilted his head. The angle of his face hit her like a punch.
Wait until she graduated. Then marry.
Yardley. Was this her ex-boyfriend?
The thought hit her like a key turning in a lock. Something deep inside her cracked open.
Then the image scattered. Gone.
She jolted awake, gasping for air.
"What did you see?" Dr. Freya asked softly.
Nancy’s chest was heaving. Her throat felt tight. She lifted her hand to her face. Her cheeks were wet. She did not even know she was crying.
The man in the dream looked like Yardley. But she was not sure. She tried to see him clearly, but the dream ended too fast.
Could her ex-boyfriend really be Yardley?
Nancy shook her head. "Dr. Freya, if the person in my dream is someone I just met recently, could he also be someone I knew before?"
Dr. Freya thought for a moment. "It is possible. Sometimes your mind pulls forward people who matter to you now. But it could also be someone who mattered to you then. Someone tied to what you forgot."
She paused. "Do you remember which college you went to? Maybe visiting your old campus would help. Sometimes places hold memories better than people do."
Nancy nodded slowly. She pulled out her phone and called Frank.
It rang four times before he picked up. His voice was careful. "What is it, Nancy?"
"I need to know which university I went to."
Silence.
"Frank. Please."
He sighed. "Fine."
A minute later, her phone buzzed. A name. An address.
Nancy stared at the screen. Her heart was pounding.
Whatever she forgot, it was buried there. And she was going to find it.
