A flicker of excitement-sharp, almost vtile-sparked in Justin’s eyes.

He wrapped an arm swiftly around Edith’s waist, pressing her close until not even a sliver of air could slip between them.

It was two-thirty in the morning in Northcrest. As suddenly as it had started, the thunderstorm outside came to an abrupt halt.

A restless breeze swept past the bedroom window, stirring damp leaves across the ground with a soft, rustling sound.

Tree trunks swayed gently, and leftover raindrops pattered from the leaves in a quiet, steady rhythm.

Edithy on the bed, listening to the mingled sounds of the night outside and the stirring within the room. Together, they formed a symphony-one underscored by the uneven cadence of their own breathing.

In the darkness, Justin leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. A shiver tingled across her earlobe.

He murmured, “So, what do you think? Should we start, or shouldn’t we?”

Feeling his presence, Edith bit her lip, a small crease forming between her brows as she wondered-weren’t they already well past “starting”? Only Justin would choose such a moment to ask her a question like that. When she didn’t answer, Justin’s brow knit together. Even in the shadows, his gaze pinned hers, refusing to let her look away.

Edith bit down harder, a faint sting blooming on her lips.

Justin’s expression softened, the edge from his earlier question fading. He reached up and gently brushed her lips with his thumb. “Don’t bite so hard. You’ll break the skin. I won’t ask again, just rx.”

He smiled, the corners of his mouth tilting up.

Edith looked almost exactly as she had twenty years ago.

12:26

The memory surfaced for Justin: that dinner party long ago, when she’d identally broken a te. She’d worn this same expression then.

He spoke softly, “You know, you haven’t changed at all since you were six. Still biting your lip whenever you’re nervous.”

Edith’s surprise gave way to the mild embarrassment thates from having an old habit exposed.

She was twenty-five-maybe twenty-six now. How could she still act like a child?

Then another thought struck her: how did Justin even remember what she

was like as a kid?

That dinner, when they’d both been children, had happened nearly twenty years ago. Did he really remember such little things?

“You have an incredible memory,” she said honestly.

She’d heard plenty about Justin’s sess in business-how he’d built something almost legendary in a world where brick-and-mortar enterprises were struggling. He had to be remarkably intelligent.

In Edith’s mind, people with such intelligence always had extraordinary

memories.

And Justin certainly seemed like one of them.

They remained entwined until the dead of night, until the wind had almost dried thest droplets clinging to the leaves. Only then did it end.

Justin held Edith close, their bodies still pressed together. Edith had turned onto her side, facing the window.

His voice was barely more than a breath, “My memory’s not that great.”

Exhausted, Edith could barely think. She mumbled, following his lead, “You’re being modest.”

Her voice was small and delicate, like a kitten that hadn’t eaten in days.

For Justin, that sound was almost too tempting.

12:26

He fought the urge to pull her closer, forcing himself to let go. “I, uh, need to take a shower.”

Edith, heavy with fatigue, didn’t even bother to open her eyes. She murmured, “Should I shower too?”

After all, they were sharing a bed now-she wanted to be considerate.

Justin, already sitting up, paused. He said firmly, “In this house, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. It’s not about need-it’s about what

you want.”

A long moment passed before Edith, still facing away, finally whispered, “Okay.” Then her breathing slowed into a steady, peaceful rhythm.

Justin stood beside the bed, the soft bedsidemp stretching his shadow

across the room.

He lingered there, watching the small figure curled beneath the covers. For a fleeting moment, his heart felt impossibly full.

A quiet, contented smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t notice that he was smiling, or that his lips moved as he murmured, “I really wasn’t being modest.”

The truth was, Justin’s memory wasn’t anything special.

He could barely keep track of his own appointments without constant

reminders from his assistant.

But even someone with the worst memory tends to remember the things-or people-that truly matter.

And Edith, to Justin, was unforgettable.

Beckett returned to the hospital, driven by a relentless barrage of calls from Salome.

Waiting for him outside the hospital room was Heather.

The look on her face was pure reproach. “Don’t you realize Salome needs

12:26

you right now? I called your assistant. You didn’t go to the office at all. Where were you? Out at a bar again?”

She leaned in, sniffing his shirt for any trace of alcohol.

Beckett looked at her, defeated. This night, he felt like he was falling apart. He said tly, “Mom, I can’t keep living like this. I’m going to tell

Edith the truth. I want to be with her.”

Heather’s eyes widened in shock. Though her anger was palpable, she kept her voice low. “What are you saying? Have you lost your mind? What truth? Are you trying to throw away everything our family has built? Salome’s condition is fragile enough-if you tell the truth now, her baby won’t survive it!”

Beckett stared up at the ceiling, hollowed out. “Edith’s getting married. She’s really going through with it! I was supposed to be her husband. I can’t do this anymore. I promised you I’d take Edith to get help-she’ll be okay, she’s young, she can still have a family!”

Heather mped a hand over his mouth, terrified Salome might overhear from inside the room.