Lost in Time

by SeaEmerald

Stella and Brandon Shields are literally the epitome of the most perfect couple. But when one unexpected event changes all of that, Stella must learn to fight for the one she loves.

4. Amnesia Amusements

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN WINX CLUB.

AN: I'm so sorry for the late update, you guys. Late doesn't even begin to cover it ._.

I received a review recently that made me a little upset. Scratch that, it made me really upset. I know it's been a long time since I updated this story. But I will finish it one day. I'm currently working on another one of my stories Mistaken Identity. That one has two more chapters left. After that, I'll work on this story. Promise.

Moving on, I hope you enjoy! (Oh, and by the way, remember that this story takes place in 2018.)

---

"You're welcome," Brandon replied with a small smile on his face, still amazed at the fact that the blonde was so darn happy just to hear that he's not going anywhere.

He hugged her back like it was a natural thing to do and he even allowed himself to enjoy it. He had been so scared in the last two weeks of the mere fact that he was indeed married that he never realized what an impact it made on Stella, who isn't at fault in any way at all.

That's when he realized that he did make the right decision by deciding to stay.

He wasn't eighteen anymore. He wasn't a teenager. He was a grown man who had a responsibility towards the woman who trusted him and walked with him down the aisle. That's what his life is now whether he liked/accepted it or not.

After a long moment, they slowly pulled away from each other. Stella's cheeks warmed as his eyes met with hers. It's been so, so long since she was this close to him.

But Brandon's focus was entirely on something else. His eyes were concentrated seriously on her tear-stained skin. He frowned slightly before hesitantly raising his thumb up to slowly wipe the drying streaks away from her face. As beautiful as she was and for some odd reason, he didn't like it when she cried.

Stella's eyes widened when he touched her cheek. This was the reaction she had craved from him since the accident. Or something akin to it. His eyes softened mildly as he watched her endearingly blush a light red.

"I'll um...I'll go and make lunch," she fumbled as he took his hand away. He nodded in response before letting her go. Stella turned around, obviously in a much better mood than before. She cleared her face of lingering wetness near her lashes.

She didn't mind that he wasn't ready for their relationship to start afresh again. She was just glad that he did, in fact, decided to stay.

Meanwhile, Brandon looked around the house for the first time...sort of. The interior was gorgeous with magnolia white walls. The living room consisted of a traditional fireplace with a few decorations and photos on top of the mantel. Couches and sofas were organized cozily around the room. A large TV was placed next to the fireplace on top of a stand.

Brandon sat down in one of the sofas and smiled lightly. The cushion sunk with his weight as he relaxed against the faux leather. "Oh, I could definitely get used to this..." he mused while spreading his arms wide along the furniture. For someone who's been begging his parents all life for some pocket money, it sure was a nice change to see that he lived the king life.

His curiosity spiked as he looked around the home. There were plenty of pictures in frames, sitting on stands. He took a deep breath before eyeing the two photo frames on the stand beside the sofa he's sitting in. He reached over with interest before holding them firmly in his hand. His breath caught immediately in his throat at seeing those two images. There was not an ounce of room for any sort of discomfort between him and Stella. Both of their faces were practically glowing. Brandon traced his fingers over his own face on the photograph, unable to believe that his own smile could be so wide and so...so happy. Their grins knew no bounds. His deep brown eyes traveled over to Stella's face. His eyes dilated when he found himself unable to tear his gaze away. One of the photos consisted of them smiling big for the camera. He hugged Stella from behind while smiling against her cheek. They were surrounded by some greenery area that he couldn't quite pinpoint. And the other photo consisted of him spinning Stella around while her arms were spread out.

He was surprised to actually see himself posing in these pictures. Considering he hated taking pictures, this was one major improvement. He continued to stare at the deliriously joyous pictures. He didn't know why or how, but he could somehow hear her laughter echoing through his ears.

"Brandon!" Stella squealed while pushing through the door and running straight into his welcoming arms. "I'm back!" she screeched in his ear, nearly turning him deaf.

"Hey, baby!" he grinned while kissing her a proper greeting before setting her down on her feet. His eyes narrowed while he glanced up and down at her before gasping in shock.

"Back from shopping, yet no cargo ships in your hands. Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?" he demanded with mock horror.

Stella scoffed and slapped his shoulder. "Shut up," she said, erupting into a fit of giggles.

Brandon's brain jolted back and forth between the fuzzy memory before his eyes breathed with life when he realized that he indeed had a good life. Despite what happened...he still had a beautiful life. Now if only he had realized it before going out of his way and being a total dick to that girl. But not that he'll admit that to her yet…

Smiled faintly, he placed the photos back where they belonged.

He stood up with a little slap to his knees. He wanted to learn more about his life. His curiosity peaked with each second, especially when he saw photos all around him that proved that he was indeed happy with the stunning blonde.

He rubbed his hands together, wondering where to start first. Hmm. Brandon mused, rubbing his chin in thought.

His ears twitched a bit when he heard Stella's footsteps nearing him. His eyes darted towards the direction before walking towards her.

Stella smiled when he came into view. "Are you hungry? Is there anything specific that you'd like to eat?" she asked.

He took in her appearance for the first time since knowing her…with amnesia. Her hair was tossed into a high ponytail while her orange and white, off-shoulder sundress showed off her slender, curvy figure. He resisted the urge to wolf-whistle.

Oh my god. What the actual hell? He looked away immediately when he realized he was staring at her for far too long, feeling a little creeped out by his own shameless ogling, and shook his head. "Um...no," he replied a little unsurely. "…I'm not that picky," he said, feeling awkward that he was being…nice to her for a change. Heh.

I know, she smiled to herself. "Okay. Um…how does baked chicken sound?" Stella offered.

Brandon nodded. "Um...do you need any help?" he asked awkwardly while scratching his head. He knew he had been a little too mean to her in the last two weeks. And that's why he wanted to make at least a little effort. The last thing he wanted was her to ditch him when he had no clue on how to run his life right now. He felt so damn awkward though. And that was a first for him since being the co-captain of the football team in high school gave him enough popularity to shamelessly flirt with just about any girl he could find.

She looked surprised by his offer. "No, I'm good," she replied, smiling before turning to return to the kitchen.

"Uh..." he coughed slightly to get her attention again. She turned around in response. "Can I…shower?" he asked unsurely, feeling lame.

Unable to help herself, Stella let out a short laugh. Well, duh, this was his home too! "Of course, you can," she smiled. "There's one upstairs. I can show you. Come on."

He nodded and silently followed her upstairs while maintaining a respectful distance behind her. Stella noticed, but she didn't feel as hurt as she probably would've before. She assured herself that she was a stranger to him and even back before they were married, Brandon had always respected her personal space and privacy. Always. He never pressured her into anything or even touched her inappropriately though she probably wouldn't have minded. Not that he gave a flying hoot for that after the night they first made love. She blushed to herself as the master bedroom fell in her view.

He looked around curiously. More pictures. "God," he whispered in astonishment as he stared at the walls. Not an inch of those walls was left unchecked. This house was stacked with materialistic testimonies of their happiness. He decided to take his time with these things right after a good ole' shower. They seem interesting. Interesting than that hellhole, at least, he snorted grouchily. Living at the hospital for the last something weeks had been enough to drive him nuts. Shaking his head with a distasteful frown, he followed her inside the bedroom.

"That's our closet over there," she pointed to the far end of the room where two large mirror doors remained closed.

His eyes widened at the modern, aesthetic appeal of the closet. They shared a closet? Is there anything they kept to themselves? "Our closet?" he mumbled, repeating what she just said.

She froze. She turned to him and fidgeted with her fingers nervously. "Oh. Um…I'm sorry. I'll move my stuff out as soon as I can," she said, wondering why she hadn't thought of this before. "…I forgot," she said as she tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.

Brandon frowned at her words, suddenly feeling like an idiot at his harsh assessment. She looked panicked for a quick moment and he could tell that she feared him leaving. He felt like a complete dirt-faced jerk as he realized how careful she's being around him. And he didn't want that. He wanted to know why she's his wife. What did he see in her that he married her? Why was he so happy with her?

Stella blew a few more strands out of her face and wondered what room she can move to. Maybe she can toss herself in one of the guest rooms downstairs. They didn't exactly have the cozy, homely effect that their master bedroom did, but they'll have to do for now. She wanted him to stay here and the least she could do to make that happen is to make sure he's comfortable with living with her.

He, however, took her by surprise when he gently grasped her hand. Her eyes widened as she stared at him, baffled. He never touched her on his own before. Not even accidentally. "…Don't," he shook his head. "Be with me how you…uh…normally would. I... I don't want you to change anything for me," he said somewhat awkwardly.

His answer surprised her. Was it just her or did it seem like he was maybe (trying to not get so hopeful here) …trying?"Really?" Stella asked hopefully. "You really mean that?"

The hope in her eyes was impossible to miss. He nodded, losing himself in her amber-shaded orbs. They were really peculiar. With an uncommon, yet beautiful mixture between autumn and copper brown, her eyes glistened with a raw emotion, deep and heavy enough to harbor over a thousand untold stories.

Lost in the moment, he found himself melting at the sight of her. She really is a beautiful girl, isn't she…? And he suddenly felt like dirt for treating her like a bug that needs to be sprayed to death. "I'll um…I'll see you downstairs," he softly said, unable to resent her any more than he did before. She bit her lip, a shy habit of hers, and nodded with a little smile on her face. He let her go and watched her as she scaled downstairs. And just like that, the moment was gone. For whatever reason his heart had irregularly spiked, he felt it flutter away just as swiftly when she left.

With a sigh, he went into the bedroom, closing the door loosely behind him. He blinked at the first thing that caught his eye: a king-sized bed sitting innocently in the center of the room. For some reason, it made him feel slightly embarrassed, almost as if walked into a private, intimate area. He didn't need to be twenty-six to realize that this was the room he and Stella presumably shared before the accident. Well, duh.

He shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead when he felt yet another painful spike in the back of his head. He heard laughter and joy echoing through his ears. He rubbed his head, trying to get these too-perfect fairytale visions out of his mind. Why was he having so many like this? He didn't have such reminiscences in the hospital. After spending days in that hellhole, cramped and confined to an iron bed, all he wanted now was some peace, rest, and relaxation.

He moved his legs towards the closet. He opened the doors to see a walk-in room inside. Lined with shelves, some spaces larger than others, allowing for clothes to be hung on hangers, the closet featured two three-drawer chests as well. He identified his clothes as well as hers as they were hung separately on two different shelves on opposite sides of the room. He walked over to his side and rummaged his fingers through his clothes. There seemed to be another layer of clothes in the back. Aside from casual wear, the numerous formal shirts caught his eye, causing him to wonder what it is exactly that he did for a living. He hoped it was a cool job and not some boring desk job. He made a mental note to ask Stella about that later.

He found a black, sleeveless, round-neck muscle tee and some good ole' track pants. He wondered where the heck his briefs were before the drawers caught his eyes. He casually opened one of them only to freeze in alarm.

"What the—?!" Brandon turned a bright red when he was greeted by lingerie. There were both cotton and lacey ones in neutral colors as well as in some…sexier tones. Blinking in shock, he quickly slammed the door shut and stepped back instantly in total horror. The back of his neck burned with mortification as his heartrate quickened. He quickly opened the other drawer and randomly took out whatever's in sight before bolting the hell out of the closet, slamming the doors shut on the way.

---

Brandon stood under the shower, breathing hard as he closed his eyes in peace. The heat soaked his skin, mildly alleviating the pain he felt near his hurt ribs. His wet strands hung over his eyes, tickling his forehead.

He clutched his injured chest gently and breathed deeply as he pondered over the events from the minute that he saw Stella. She was certainly stunning. Even he can't deny it anymore. What was that back there? He was physically attracted to her — thank you, evil lingerie — but he wasn't sure about the mental connection. Nonetheless, a part of him felt gratitude for her. Despite being a jerk to her, she was still here. She still smiled around him and she exhausted herself to tend to his needs.

He's gotta admire the girl's persistence.

---

After a long shower, he got dressed quickly and made a beeline out of the master bedroom. He cleared his throat, hoping to get the image of the lingerie he saw earlier out of his stupid, insanely hormonal head. He looked around, hoping for a distraction. His stomach suddenly growled in anticipation for lunch. "Hallelujah!" he breathed in relief before rushing downstairs in haste.

He tiptoed into the kitchen, following the delicious aroma that greeted him. The blonde was cutting something and too busy to notice his presence. He approached her silently and peered over her shoulder, peeking at the food curiously.

She never noticed him standing behind her as she was too busy making lunch for them both. She turned around to get something only to be audibly frightened at his sudden appearance. Stella squealed in surprise, gasping as she stumbled back onto the counter and accidentally knocked a glass over to the floor. They both watched as it shattered into pieces.

Stella's eyes traveled back to him, wondering what he was doing here in the first place.

"I'm...I'm sorry," he stammered, stepping back from her. "It smelled really good and I was getting a little hungry," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his reddening neck.

Stella's expression turned to one of amusement when she saw him — and dare she say it — shy. Since when was the great, always-so-smug-and-too-cool-for-anything Brandon Shields shy?

"I'll help!" he offered before staring at the floor. "Where's the broomstick?" he asked, looking around.

For some reason, his endearing reactions made her laugh. It was amusing for once to see him so... so normal for once. She never once saw him being clueless about something. He always liked being in control and aware of his surroundings. Maybe…there is a bright side to this amnesia. She didn't know he had such a cute side in him. "It's okay. Go," she giggled. "I got it. I'm almost done. I'll bring the food out in about fifteen minutes," she said.

He nodded but merely stood in a corner. It felt rude to just go on about his way while she had to clean up the mess that he was responsible for. He watched her take a broom before carefully stepping around the glass to clean up. He kept his eyes on her as she swept the floor with almost zero discomfort on her face.

A few minutes later, Stella finished and stepped around carefully to make sure they weren't any ignored shards. Placing the broom aside, she washed her hands before checking the oven. There was still a couple of minutes left to it. " Do you mind if I take a quick shower in the meantime?" she asked, turning to him. Honestly, why on earth should she be so formal with him? It felt sickening that she can't fully be herself around him with this amnesia thingy wedging in their relationship, uninvited.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead," he said, wondering why she even had to ask in the first place.

Stella shot him a small smile before brushing past him and heading upstairs into the bedroom. She headed to the closet before grabbing her clothes and placing them on the bed. She took her towel before going into the bathroom.

She cooed slightly when even the bathroom smelled of him. The wonderful, heavenly scent of sandalwood, cypress, and earth mixed into one. There was still a little steam present on the mirrors. Using her fingers, Stella bit her lip and leaned forward before writing their names on the mirror and enclosing them with a heart. Stella + Brandon 4Ever…

She stared wistfully at her own cheesy art. But when will that art become a reality again? Her eyes visibly saddened but only for a moment as she willed herself to stay strong. She shook her head and turned away with unshed tears in her eyes. She can't lose hope. Not now. Not when things seemed to be going in an okay direction.

Sighing, she stripped before hopping into the shower. She relaxed and moaned in relief when the hot water hugged her body. She hasn't really had the chance to properly pamper herself the last two weeks. She spent most of her time either at work or at the hospital. Being so serious and grave was unlike her. It killed her to be that way.

His countless confessions from before the accident of how much he loved her gave her immeasurable hope, and she knew she can't give up on him even when everything seems like a lost cause. She had to admit that seeing how today had turned out, she could feel herself coming alive again. She felt happier and lighter. He decided to stay. Given the circumstances, she considered that a boon. And she was more than determined to make that a permanent thing.

---

Stella exited out of the bathroom with a towel firmly wrapped around her body. She ruffled her wet hair with one hand and fanned herself in an attempt to dry her dampening body. A small smile played on her lips as she looked at her reflection in the full-length mirrors attached to the closet doors. For the first time since the accident, she didn't feel so self-conscious of herself. Before the accident, there wasn't a time she could remember feeling so little of herself. Brandon never allowed her to be that way. He never gave her a reason to feel…unwanted. His attitude after the accident had been such a shock to her that for the longest time, she believed that something is wrong with her and that's probably why he couldn't stand her. But thinking from his point of view…she can't imagine how drastic of a change this must be.

I mean, would I be okay if I was in his shoes? She thought with amusement before immediately shaking her head no. If she was mentally eighteen and found out she was married to a twenty-six-year-old man, she would freak. Not only would he be wayyyyy out of her definition of acceptable age range, but she would never be okay with living with a random dude. Even if that dude happens to be the hottest man she ever laid her eyes on…

She giggled. She can't deny it. Brandon was blessed with some fine genes. She stood in front of the mirror door of the closet, eyeing herself as she gently patted her hair dry. "And so am I," she smiled at her reflection with pride, giggling.

She went to the bed, where her clothes were laid out beforehand. She casually eyed the time and saw that she's been in the shower for over thirty minutes.

Oh, no. She slapped her forehead and gasped, realizing the oven must've been overcooking the chicken by now. "Oh, crap," she said hastily, throwing her clothes aside before busting the door open and yanking herself down the stairs.

She instantly ran down to the kitchen where, sure enough, she caught a whiff of something being fried extra crispy.

Grabbing an oven mitt, she switched the oven off and opened it. "Please tell me I just didn't burn the food," Stella grumbled tiredly while taking out the hot chicken from the oven. "Please tell me I didn't burn it," she sighed while glancing at it closely. After seeing the dark texture, she groaned. "I burned it," she grumbled while blowing her hair upwards. "No, wait! I didn't!" she happily told herself, seeing that the black texture was only at the top. She carefully scraped away the top part and cut a small piece before plopping it into her mouth. She smiled in relief as the food still tasted delicious.

Her ruckus successfully caught the attention of a brown-haired male in the house. He curiously got up from the comfortable couch in the living room before strolling towards the kitchen to see what happened. He opened his mouth to ask what's wrong but stopped immediately when he saw what sight greeted him. His eyes widened to see Stella prancing around in only a towel. His lips parted open as his eyes automatically ran down her figure in shock. The flimsy piece of fabric hit her body out of sight but not the voluptuous shape of it. He suppressed a gasp at his assessment of his own wife, looking away in embarrassment.

Meanwhile, unaware of her one-man audience, with a shake of her head, she just left the food to cool down. Meanwhile, she can go upstairs and get dressed. Stella ruffled her wet, dripping hair before blowing a few strands out of her face. "I'm such an idiot," she mumbled under her breath, shaking her head.

She turned on her heel, never noticing the water droplets that accumulated near her feet and formed a small puddle. It made her foot slide unexpectedly. "Eeep!" Stella shrieked in total panic and clutched her towel tightly when she started to fall backwards.

Brandon snapped out of his 'inappropriate' ogling before his eyes widened with startlement and his feet instantly moved with slick reflexes (reflexes that he didn't even know he had). He let out a small grunt as he panicked and raced over to her. Stella expected her back to collide against the hard floor of the kitchen, but she was surprised to feel two strong arms underneath her body, wounding around her back and protecting her from the fall. She opened her eyes with confusion and saw Brandon holding her up.

His lips parted slightly as he gazed down at her emotionlessly. Oh, good god, he didn't know moves like these existed in anything other than movies.

She looked surprised to see him. But not as much as he was to see her in a towel. He watched the wet droplets that lingered at the edges of her hair to fall on her damp shoulders before the accumulated drops traveled further down her chest before disappearing into her towel. He gulped slightly before somehow managing to get out of his shameless objectifying. "Erm…you okay?" he asked uncomfortably before starting to slowly lift her up.

She nodded slowly before her cheeks reddened scarlet at their proximity.

He let her stand up.

Stella gasped when her towel started to loosen from the fall. Noticing that, Brandon's eyes widened before he suddenly pushed her away, resulting in a surprised squeak from her.

"Oh my god, you're naked!" he shouted before pushing her away and covering his eyes with his hands.

She raised an eyebrow at his reaction. Well, that was new. If she had appeared anywhere like this near the old Brandon, this towel would've been shredded to pieces already. She stared at him, truly stunned, as she adjusted her towel back on track.

"Stella, put on some goddamn clothes, for heaven's sake!" Brandon demanded with horror.

Stella blinked before she reached up to remove his hands from his face, leaving him to stare at her in total disbelief. "Please. You're acting as if you never saw me without any," she rolled her eyes before crossing her arms.

His eyes widened at what she just did. "Oh my god," he mumbled at her bold attitude. So that means...they had...He mentally slapped himself. Of course, they did. They've been married for two years. "Jesus," he grumbled as his neck reddened. Again.

"In fact..." she drawled lazily. "You actually loved that," she teased with a small laugh, clearly enjoying this. The fact that she was actually able to make this six-foot hunk speechless was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity already but to make him blush? That's a blessed boon granted to her by the heavens. And she wasn't about to let that trot away from her. "A lot," she added with a snicker.

"Stella!" he shouted in incredulity, gasping at her audacity.

She decided to take it a step further and make him fluster even more. "Yes...?" she cooed innocently, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Well, do you like how I look?" she teased.

His eyes nearly bugged out of his sockets. His cheekbones flushed a bright red. "Stella, this is literally the most humiliating moment of my life. Please stop," he begged while sealing his eyes firmly shut.

She laughed before looking at herself and then him. "...I'm the one in a towel and you're the one embarrassed...?" she asked in amusement.

"Yes," he replied, still keeping his eyes shut. "…You're shameless."

She scoffed. "You're the one to talk about shamelessness. If I can recall right, you seduced me right in the middle of a restaurant," she playfully rolled her eyes, tapping his nose.

His eyes popped open in shock. "E-Excuse me?"

"Yeah," she nodded, still a little miffed that he was responsible for them leaving early on their date. A date she had looked forward to for WEEKS. Just how dare he...

"W-Well...!" he stuttered, not knowing what else to say. His eyes were wide with surprise when he realized how close she was to him. He quickly looked away, growing uncomfortable in their proximity.

Seeing him so flustered, she couldn't help but giggle to herself. If he had his memories, it would be her blushing to a whole new level. "Brandon...you can look," she softly said. "I... I really don't mind," she blushed. Afterall, he's seen her in a state far worse than this one. Countless times, she might add.

He remained quiet for a moment and crossed his arms, turning back to her. "I do...It doesn't feel right. I won't see you as a wife. I'll see you as a woman," he said, gazing into her honey-colored eyes. "I don't want that," he stated honestly, not sure why he felt that way. Shouldn't the mind of an eighteen-year-old be hyped with hormones right now? Instead, he felt so…mature. He didn't want to treat her like she's a sex object though she would definitely pass that test with flying colors. She was still a girl and all girls deserved a little more respect than being treated like pieces of meat. No questions asked.

She felt awed by his answer, but she wasn't really surprised. He sounded exactly like the Brandon she knew. Though this one was a little immature and ridiculous, there was one quality that was stuck to him, amnesia or not. It was his respect for her. It's what she made him fall for her in the first place. She remembered their first date as clearly as if it happened just yesterday. He was cocky, sarcastic, and a lot of other asshole-istic things, but the way he respected and loved her for who she is made her feel special. At the end of the day, isn't that what everyone wants in a relationship?

Unable to resist, Stella reached up and kissed his cheek, making his eyes widen once more in surprise. His lips parted open as she hugged him afterwards. "Brandon…you're the one man I would be anything for," she stated sincerely. With a deep sigh, she unwillingly let him go before stepping back. "I'm sorry. I'll be careful to be decent from the next time," she said with an almost sad smile before leaving the kitchen to go get dressed. She missed the way his eyes followed her as she went upstairs and disappeared into the master room.

"You're the one man I would be anything for."

Her soft voice echoed in his ears as he kept his eyes in the direction she just disappeared to. A faint smile touched his lips. The more he replayed it in his head, the more he felt his heart stir. She really did love him, didn't she? He sighed. He honestly wished he could return her feelings. He really did. She seemed like a nice girl and the way he was so physically attracted to her just made him wonder even more.

He just stood there, thinking quietly to himself. Before long, he heard shuffling upstairs before seeing her face pop up. He watched her quietly as she climbed down the stairs in an orange pajama set. His eyes narrowed with interest. From what he can recall for the past two weeks, she wore a lot of warm and earthy colors. He guessed that orange or yellow must be her favorite color, considering how she practically owned it. She left her hair open to air dry. His eyes remained impassive as he watched her. He could honestly get used to this. At eighteen, you'd expect to be with your parents, begging for permission to stay out past curfew. But at twenty-six...you're stuck with a gorgeous blonde, who isn't afraid to walk out half-naked. Life really isn't that bad at all.

Not bad at all.

Stella noticed him standing at the doorway of the kitchen. "You can sit down," she told him. "Just give me two minutes. I'll have it ready," she said hastily before rushing inside. He didn't heed to her advice and continued to gaze at her, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed and an ankle crossed over the other leisurely.

Stella reached up on her toes before getting two plates from a shelf. "Do you want to eat at the table or the living room?" she asked, turning to him halfway. She put on oven mitts before carrying the still-hot pan with her. She walked towards him before looking up at him in question.

He stared at the pan she was carrying before glancing at her. "Wherever you prefer," he answered absentmindedly. "And give me that," he said, reaching for the chicken before she turned away from him.

"It's still hot," she said with alarm before quickly moving past him and going to the dining table. She noticed him still standing at the kitchen's entrance, looking a little clueless. "Brandon, go sit down," she gently told him. He was just standing there, following her around unnecessarily.

"But I feel guilty," he mumbled, admitting it quietly. He felt like a slob, just standing around and doing nothing while she cleaned and cooked. He didn't want that, but he also didn't know how to help her.

"That's very sweet of you, but I got it. Really. Go sit in the living room and watch some TV," she said gently.

He gave her a dubious glance before nodding slowly. She watched as he left before smiling slightly to herself. She can't believe that he was actually listening to her for a change. He had a whole different attitude this morning. Quietly going back to work, she wondered if it's the house that let him be a little more open. Back at the hospital, he refused to believe he was a day older than eighteen, much less having gotten married to some stranger. Had she known this would happen, she should've brought him home sooner.

With the harsh reciprocation he bestowed upon her the last few days, she started to lose hope that he'll ever give her — and them — a chance. But now, she felt her hope return that someday even if his memories don't return, he'll eventually give her a chance. She smiled to herself at that prospect.

A couple of minutes later, she set the food on the table before serving him and herself a plate each. She carried the plates to the living room, where he sat quietly. There was a picture frame in his hands, and he was busy staring at it curiously.

"There you go," she smiled at him before extending his plate. He looked up before his eyes fell on the food and he eagerly took it, making her giggle a little. He must be famished. He set the picture down beside him before digging into the food ravenously. She sat on the opposite side of him, watching him eat. "Do you like it...?" she asked a little nervously.

He looked up sheepishly. "Yes, thank you," he said, earning a pleased nod from her in response. She started to eat when he suddenly spoke again. "Where was this?" he curiously asked, pointing to the picture. Judging from the Ferris wheel in the backdrop, they seemed to be at a fair of some sort but they both had surprised glances on their faces. Stella was busy covering her head and he was busy looking at the sky.

Stella peered at it for a moment before letting out a short giggle. "At a carnival. We were taking pictures when it suddenly started to rain," she explained with a joyful smile on her face. "It was a total bust. We had to leave early," she giggled.

Usually, people frame pictures when there are smiles in them. So...why was this one framed? "But why is it in a frame? Surely there must've been better pics than this," he inquired.

Stella opened her mouth to answer before suddenly stopping herself. Her face flushed a bright red. "Phew, I'm famished," she breathed before digging into her food, trying to change the topic to something else.

He raised an eyebrow at her reddening cheeks. What did he say? It was a simple question in his eyes. "Are you...blushing?" he asked, his eyes suddenly dancing with interest and amusement.

"I'm not," she denied, trying not to choke on her food.

"Yes, you are," he accused. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked in confusion.

"No," she shook her head.

"Then?" he pressed on.

"…Okay…um. Fine," she sighed in exasperation, realizing he wasn't going to give it up. "It was raining on that day and we went back to your place because it was closer. We framed that picture because that was the day we...we um…that we first did...it," she cleared her throat awkwardly, looking away with a scarlet blush on her face. It had been her idea to frame that. She didn't care if it was weird. Memories are memories and she cherished that one so much. It was the only picture they took on that day, so there weren't any better pictures to frame.

"Did what?" he scrunched his face in bemusement.

Stella stared at him. Dear ground, you can swallow me any moment now! She prayed as she slapped her forehead, facepalming at his hopelessness.

A second later, realization flashed in his eyes. Oh.

Immediately, they both looked away from each other as their faces visibly reddened. And suddenly, the food seemed to be a lot more interesting.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh..." he murmured, not knowing what to say.

"Exactly," she grumbled, eating another forkful. "I was trying to make it less awkward for you."

"And failing miserably," he chipped in, taking another bite of the chicken.

She scoffed. "Jerk," she mumbled under her breath.

They ate in silence for a while before Brandon raised his head. "So, do you cook every day?" he asked casually, changing the subject.

She shook her head before a small smile bloomed on her lips. "I'd say you do it most of the time," she answered. On the days that you're here to do it, at least, she sadly smiled to herself, omitting that part out. He always insisted to cook whenever he's home. He once admitted to her that it was his way of apologizing to her.

He stared at her in surprise. "I can cook?!" he gawked.

She nodded with a laugh. "And excellently too, mind you," she winked.

"…Wow," he mumbled in disbelief. He can't imagine that. He can barely do his laundry at eighteen, much less cook. "Who does the dishes?" he blurted stupidly.

"That's actually 50-50," she sheepishly said.

"Oh," he mumbled. That wasn't so bad.

"Okay, my turn," Stella smiled. "I actually have a question for you," she asked.

"Shouldn't I be the one with questions?" he retorted without looking up from his food.

She ignored his cocky reply. "Did you really not know what a woman's body looked like in high school? That's kind of hard to believe," Stella pointed out.

He started coughing in disbelief and ended up nearly choking on his food. "Stella!" he snapped at her shamelessness. Mind your damn business!

"What? I mean, it's surprising a dumb jock wouldn't have screwed a few cheerleaders in the locker rooms," she shrugged, teasing.

"Dumb jock?" he scoffed, clearly taking offense.

"It's public knowledge that jocks are dumb and man-whores," she declared in a matter-of-fact tone.

He let out a 'tsk'. "Now I understand why you're a blonde," he said rudely, shaking his head with a smirk.

"Dumbass," she shot him a small glare.

"Right back at ya for marrying one then!" he grumbled.

Stella bit back a blush at his snarky reply. Idiot. Memories or not, his sarcasm and quick wit are impossible to outwit.

"…Cheerleaders aren't my type, by the way," Brandon mumbled, eating quietly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she asked, amused. "Why?"

"Just a bunch of blonde bimbos," he shrugged, declaring it like it's a well-known fact.

Stella scoffed at his outrageous generalization. But like the complete asshole that he is, she wondered why she's even surprised. Wanting him to pay for that anyway, she picked up a pillow beside her and tossed it at him. A low gasp escaped his lips as his slick reflexes instantly let him hold the plate out of the way and catch the pillow with ease. The brunet's eyes widened at his own impulses. Just how in the world did he do that? He turned to him, confused. "What was that for?"

The blonde appeared stunned for a moment before slapping herself for powerlessly drooling over his suaveness. "Excuse you!" she slandered him.

He raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked, puzzled.

She fumed and folded her arms.

Soon, a quick recognition flashed before his eyes as his attention snapped towards her vibrant blonde hair. "Don't tell me…" his confusion soon shifted into an amused smirk. "You were a cheerleader?" he asked, stifling a laugh.

She glared at him.

He started to laugh. "You—!" he trailed off before his chest rumbled with laughter and amusement.

Stella rolled her eyes before standing up, fuming. "You're a complete asshole!" she glared.

Ignoring the pangs to his injured ribs, he continued to laugh, thoroughly amused by her reactions. Hey, the pain was worth it.

"Gah!" she let out a frustrated growl before taking her plate elsewhere. She stormed off to the kitchen and growled when she still heard muffled sounds of his laughter. "Cut it out already!" she hollered into the living room.

Chuckling, he picked his plate up before following her into the kitchen. "And here I thought you wanted me to be nicer to you," he smirked, leaning against the doorframe and eating his food innocently.

Stella raised an eyebrow. "You need to work on your definition of nice," she mumbled, turning away from him.

He let out a smooth 'tsk' under his breath. He was surprised at how at-ease he felt. He was genuinely enjoying this conversation and making her fluster. He enjoyed riling her up and found it especially amusing at how quick she is to get mad at him. He flirted before. With many girls. But it would always be somewhat obvious that he's doing that just to get their phone numbers. With Stella…he felt as if he's being himself. It was refreshing for a change.

---

After finishing their lunch, Stella moved to do the dishes. Brandon stood next to her as she did that, feeling stupid and useless.

Noticing him standing beside her like an awkward watchman, the blonde turned towards him. "Do you need anything?" she asked, bemused.

He shook his head and cocked his head towards the dishes, silently telling her that he was just busy watching her.

She glanced at the pile of them in the sink before turning to him again. "…I can do these. You should go and rest," she told him.

"I'm not a patient, Stella," Brandon interrupted her with an irritated frown. He did his share of sitting and resting for two damn weeks. He wanted some action. "You know what? Scooch," he suddenly said before turning off the tap and pushing her aside. She yelped out of surprise before quickly regaining her balance. She watched him put the latex gloves on.

"Brandon—" she tried to protest.

"You said we do dishes 50-50," he shrugged before turning the hot water on. "Consider this my share," he said with a faint smile, turning to her.

Her cheeks warmed mildly at the smile on his face. It made her feel all sorts of fuzzy on the inside. She took her gloves on before washing her hands and picking up a soft cloth to dry the dishes off.

As if in a trance, Brandon washed the dishes silently. His eyes narrowed as he felt yet another déjà vu moment.

"I dry and you wash?" she teased, giggled.

He smirked. "Nice try. How about 50-50 instead?"

He blinked out of his daze before turning to her, who was obliviously drying the dishes. Why is he getting vague, blurry flashes of his memories? Why isn't he able to remember completely?

Stella took a deep breath. She felt miserable, being this close to him, yet unable to touch him.

"This is such a chore," the blonde complained as she pouted.

From beside her, he laughed in amusement before quickly leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Her eyes turned wistful. She missed that kind of affection from him. The little shoulder nudges, their playful banters, their laughter…she didn't realize how used she was to him already that a day without him felt cold and hollow. It sure beats him wandering off though, the blonde silently shrugged. His week-long missions to god-knows-where stressed her to no end. Whenever she asked, he'd evade it effortlessly and shift onto lighthearted topics. Of course, she'd feel not-so-stellar about it but she wouldn't complain—

"Um. Those dishes aren't gonna dry themselves, you know," a mildly annoyed voice piped from beside her.

Stella jerked out of her trance and saw that she's been standing still, simply holding a wet plate like an idiot. "Oh, sorry," she fumbled before drying them quickly and placing them back where they belonged.

She stole glances of this new version of Brandon. He's the same person but at the same time, he isn't. He's just…there. While his attitude change was a major improvement, she still craved for more. Was that selfish of her? …She didn't know. But she didn't care either. He was her husband for crying out loud; she was allowed to be selfish.

---

Brandon rolled his shoulders back and forth, feeling a little annoyed. When he said he wanted some action, he didn't really mean doing dishes. But whatever. Sure beats being a slob.

Stella had wandered off back to the living room to sit down for a while. He didn't want to do that. He's done enough of sitting. Maybe sightseeing? A satisfied smile spread across his handsome features as he cruised back to the living room, where she sat on a couch and put on the TV. She had a throw draped over, nuzzled all the way to her chin.

He flopped down beside her, surprising her. She turned to him, wide-eyed.

He poked her. "Is there anything personal of yours?" he asked.

"Huh?" she blinked.

"Do you have any personal things stowed away anywhere that I shouldn't be touching?" he rephrased.

She stared at him in confusion. "Um…no…?"

"Cool," he said before standing up. "Good chat," he nodded before walking off.

The what? Confused and amused, Stella called after him. "Where are you going?"

"Sightseeing!" he hollered back before disappearing into one of the bedrooms.

Understanding flashed before her eyes. Her lips broke out into a smile as she shook her head, amused. She should've known. Memories or not, she should've known that he just wouldn't leave their house alone. He wouldn't want any rock unturned or any corner unexplored. She nuzzled into the couch, letting him do whatever he wanted to make himself feel more at home.

Brandon ventured through the house, standing with the downstairs foyer. There wasn't anything special here. Just framed landscape pictures hung on walls and few other decorative pieces and vases elegantly furnished around. Minutes after checking out the two rooms the foyer connected to, he guessed that they must be guest rooms. Nope, nothing special here.

Stella couldn't help but follow him with her eyes every time he appeared in her sight to go into a different room. What is he doing? She thought to herself with a smile before cuddling into her blankets and resuming her movie. She had put on an action and adventure flick, a genre that has grown on her ever since she met Brandon.

In the meantime, Brandon disappeared into another room, not necessarily a bedroom. There was a bookcase and what appeared to be photo albums lined along the top shelves. He was surprised that even in times where almost everything is digitalized, they still kept photo albums. Who honestly does that? Isn't that what phones are for? Well, Stella must be one old-fashioned girl, though that's not something that would strike his mind at first glance.

Each album was categorized according to year. Stella told him they met about four years ago. That's in 2014. He Curiously, he picked up that particular album before opening it to the first page. His eyes widened to see handwriting and photos. It wasn't a typical photo album where every side had neatly organized pictures. Instead, it was more like a scrapbook. A very thick scrapbook.

He glanced at each of the pictures, barely brushing his eyes over the handwritten script. He never saw himself being so…happy. His fingers gently brushed over each photo, wondering how he was able to be so carefree. His eyes flickered over to Stella's face, who looked just as happy as he was. He turned over each page, glancing at the photos but recalling none of the memories. There was one certain picture where he stopped.

They're under the night sky, probably in a park or someplace private. He didn't know. He didn't remember. It wasn't the location or the a-little-too-fancy-for-casual-outing attires they had on. It was how close they were to each other and the boundless energy they radiated. He had held the blonde so close to himself, nuzzling his chin gently on the top of her head. Both faced the camera with the biggest, goofiest smiles he has ever seen on anyone.

Brandon eyed the date. August 18, 2014. His eyes flickered down to the message scribbled underneath.

Your 20th birthday...while you blew out the candles, I made a wish along with you. I wished that every single day puts a smile on the beautiful face I fell in love with. Years later, I would've never thought I'd be lucky enough to be a part of that every day. – Brandon

Clearly, the message was written recently. Maybe a year or two ago?

And he recognized that handwriting. It was his own, but slightly more polished and refined. At least that's an improvement, he mumbled absentmindedly.

August 18…he repeated in his head. Stella's birthday.

Brandon's eyes wandered over the message repeatedly. Wow. "I really loved her, didn't I?" he whispered absentmindedly, gently trailing his fingers over Stella's face. If this, along with the other gazillion trinkets overflowing the house, isn't proof that he had a blessed married life, then he didn't know what is. He sighed softly to himself before closing the album and placing it back on the racks. He didn't need to see anymore.

He's been a delirious lovesick fool for the past four-something years. And he went out of his way to…hurt her. Brandon frowned as he reflected on his repulsive attitude since the day he "first" met her in the hospital. Today was probably the only day he showed her any kind of normalcy. And she seemed to be in a lighter mood as well.

Making up his mind, Brandon took a deep breath before waltzing out of the room and heading into the living room where he saw Stella intently watching the movie. Her eyes broke away when she saw him enter. A smile immediately broke out on her face and he could only watch in awe. She had a really beautiful smile. Is she really that happy to see him?

"Hi," she waved cutely.

He suppressed a smile. It was easy to see why he'd fall in love with her. She had a childlike exuberance.

Her smile faltered when he didn't respond. Instead, he just approached her and sat down beside her. She frowned, raising herself from her relaxed pose. "…Is everything okay…?" she asked slowly in concern, wondering what the heck happened now.

He turned to her before taking the TV remote from her and pausing the movie. "I…um…" he stuttered before frowning. Apologize for being a prick! The little, red guy on his shoulder scolded harshly. He glared at his own conscious. Hey, it's not easy to admit that you're wrong. But…he's not eighteen anymore, so that childish excuse isn't going to work anymore.

"…I wanted to apologize," he blurted out suddenly, surprising her.

Her eyes widened as she blankly stared at him. "…For what?" she asked in genuine confusion.

He scratched the back of his neck. Apologizing isn't that easy to begin with and she's not making it any easier. "…I was wrapped up in thinking so much about myself that I never once thought about how you might be feeling. I'm sorry for being such a jerk," he said with a straight face.

Stella stared at him, wondering what has gotten into him. Well, whatever it was, she hoped it'd stay there. She sighed out of relief. "It's okay," she said before smiling at him a little.

"…It is? Really? You're not mad or anything?" he asked, blinking. He looked like a child being grounded by his mom.

"Why would I be?" she asked, letting out a short giggle.

"…I don't know," he scratched his head. "Don't girls…you know…make a big deal out of everything?" he blurted out without filtering his words.

Stella's smile instantly vanished. That's his second time generalizing girls today! "How dare you?!" she suddenly scoffed.

He seemed confused by her overreaction. "What? What did I say?" he asked innocently.

But Stella knew that it was fake right off the bat. He looked too innocent. Pretty soon, his eyes shifted from apologetic to amused as she crossed her arms, fuming. "You are a complete jerk," she pouted.

He started to laugh.

Ignoring him and unending experiments of satires on her, she grabbed the remote and pressed play to resume the movie.

Okay, it's official. He really did like this chick. Yup. Chick. That's what he'll pretend she is until he can fully accept her as his wife.

The blonde grumbled and cuddled back to her blankets, throwing a peeved glance at him every few seconds.

He kept his beguiled glance at her for a few seconds until the sound of gunshots interrupted his trance. He turned his head towards the TV, in which he saw a police officer getting fired at by an antagonist. His eyes narrowed as the gunshots kept echoing endlessly as the policeman madly dashed around to find an uncompromised escape route. His smile faded as his lips pursed. He suddenly felt tense for some reason. The sounds…there was something oddly familiar about the shooting. He clutched the side of his head as it started to ache. Weird sounds echoed in his hand. The sound of a gun reloading again and again and again… A gun…Something about a gun seems familiar. His eyes narrowed with confusion as he lifted his head up. Why is he even thinking about a gun?

His time secretly playing video games in the basement long after his parents are asleep must be getting to him. Or something like that. Yup, that's all there is to it.

He stood up, feeling disturbed. Why did he like there was more it than that? Unconvinced, he glued his eyes to the TV screen, hoping that will spike a memory of some sort. All day, he's been receiving fuzzy, three-second flashes out of nowhere. He's bound to get some of those again, right? He watched the movie, feeling like a complete idiot. He wasn't engrossed in the movie, but, rather, the environment that the cast is currently in. Something about that felt oddly familiar but…what is it?

"Are you trying to vaporize the TV with the whole if-looks-could-kill thing?" Stella's teasing voice snapped his concentration instantly, irking the already confused brunet.

He turned to her with a sigh. "I'm just…I don't know," he frowned, killing her fun almost instantly. "I need to be alone for a minute," he mumbled before taking off in a random direction.

Stella visibly frowned at his sudden change in mood. She watched him hastily run up the stairs, taking two to three at a time. What happened now? Well…so much for the apology, she sighed before crossing her arms tiredly. The blonde winced when the upstairs master bedroom closed shut.

And suddenly, the movie didn't seem so fun anymore.

Brandon leaned against the door with back attached to it. He didn't even know why he was so much bothered by something he saw in a goddamn movie. He felt an aching, something he couldn't quite explain in words. He knew he was forgetting something important. Something major. He just didn't know what.

He eyed the bedroom with a deep frown, looking around for something that might trigger him to recall a memory. But there was literally nothing here except for — that's right — cheesy pictures with goofy grins. "Okay, I was happy with her, I get it!" he grumbled under his breath, irritated. "What about the rest of my life?" he asked himself. Surely, he can't be occupied with only her all the time. There's gotta be something else to his life other than a wife and her baked chicken recipes!

Bummed and disappointed, he sighed and dejectedly looked around. The drawer chests nuzzled in the far corners of the room caught his attention for some reason. Out of everything in his room, the chests seemed more interesting. Wondering why, he walked over to one of the drawer chests in the far corners of the room. He sighed and drummed his fingers on top of the dresser before casually opening and closing the drawers. Other than towels, clothes, and whatnot, there was nothing out of the ordinary here. He moved over to the second chest before opening one by one, starting from the bottom. Unopened boxes of scented candles, perfumes and colognes, mothballs, room fresheners…He sighed as he kept looking until he reached the second drawer.

Brandon suddenly stopped when he felt that weird déjà vu moment. Again. He held the drawer open and stared at it inquisitively, wondering why this particular one struck out to him amongst the others. A bunch of socks, ranging from neon colors to plain ones, and pajama sets, which he could obviously guess as Stella's, filled the drawer. Nothing unusual here. Just…clothes. But he trusted his gut that there was something important hidden here. He slowly pulled the drawer out to get a better look. He took it out completely before setting it on the floor. He sat on one knee and rubbed the stubble on his chin in thought. Trying not to mess up much of the blonde's stuff, he gently rummaged through the articles. Frowning when he saw absolutely nothing, Brandon sighed before picking it up and glancing up to fit the drawer back in its rightful place only to stop suddenly when he could make out to what seemed like a cutout under the first drawer.

He set the drawer in his hands back on the floor before standing up and craning his head downwards to get a closer look. He used his fingers to trace the outline of the cutout. On one side of the cutout, there seemed to be a clasp and the other end was firmly bolted. Tapping his fingers gently against it, he heard a hollow sound instead of the expected woody sound. There was definitely something in there. With an eager enthusiasm, he unlocked the clasp. It soon gave way. He let out an inaudible gasp when something ridiculously cold fell into his hand. He pulled it out, wondering what the hell it was, only to be stunned right down to his very core. "What the fuck?!" he gaped. A gun. The one thing that's been bugging him endlessly ever since he saw that cursed clip on the TV downstairs. And he found it now? Miraculously?! Right in front of his very nose?! Just how big of a coincidence can this be?!

His palm burned under the weapon's weight. He immediately dropped it and jumped two feet away from it in horror, now realizing the reality of the situation. Forget the coincidence. Why on earth did they have a gun in their home!? And that too stowed away in a secret location that he just happened to know about?

I better not be involved in any shady shit, his eyes bugged out as he continued to stare at the soulless chunk of metal. Unable to help himself, he suddenly let out a scream.

"Stella!" Brandon called, swallowing as much as terror as he could. "STELLA!" he continued hollering, unable to tear his eyes away from the shiny weapon.

Stella leapt out of the relaxing and unmoving pose she's been in. She nearly fell off the couch as she scrambled to untangle herself from the cozy wrap she had cocooned herself in for the past twenty minutes. "C-Coming!" she shouted back before running straight for their bedroom upstairs. She took two at a time and raced up the staircase. Her heart seized with worry and straight up panic because she never heard such fear in his voice before. The guy was usually calm and chilled, so to hear him screaming lividly out of nowhere nearly gave her a heart attack.

She heaved as she entered their bedroom. "What?! What happened?! What's wrong?!" she panted while sprinting over to him. Her eyes widened to see a messily sprawled open drawer and a…gun on the carpet.

"THAT! What the hell is that?!" Brandon gasped in horror while pointing to the grey-black Glock.

Stella followed his eyesight and saw that he was gaping at the gun. She turned back to him in total disbelief before letting out a sigh of relief. "This was why you're screaming...?" she asked in confusion, pointing to it. Her relief soon turned from annoyance to just straight up irritation.

Unfazed by her glare, he continued slandering. "Yes! Why do we have a gun in our house?!" he demanded in total panic. He grabbed her by the shoulders, earning a squeak from her. He started to shake her madly, making her dizzy.

"B-B-Brandon...!" Stella squeaked incoherently as blood rushed to her head.

"Say something!" Brandon gasped while scanning his eyes up and down her body for any signs of scars or whatever. They weren't shady people, right? When he was questioned by the police in the hospital soon after the accident, they greeted him like a normal civilian. So…he's a good person, right? "Are we in danger?" he blurted, continuing to shake her.

"Brandon!" Stella finally shouted to get his attention. His widened eyes stood still as he stared at her for an explanation. "Dramatic much?!" she grumbled before grabbing his arms to stop him from swinging her around like a puppet. Since when was he this irrational and immature?

"Dramatic?" he scoffed, clearly taking offense. "There's a flippin' gun in this house and you expect me to be silent about it?" he repeated in disbelief while shaking her left and right like a ragged doll.

"Ow, stop shaking me!" Stella shrieked. "It's there because you're a police officer!" she yelped, trying to get him to stop spinning her around like crazy. Even if he didn't know about his occupation, didn't he ever hear of this thing called licensed guns?!

Brandon's frenzy and frantic stance froze in shock at her words. Whaaa...? He blinked before his grip on her loosened down a bit. Stella sighed out of relief while shaking her head a little to get her dizzying senses back. So much for 'calm' and 'collected'. Eighteen-year-old Brandon is such an idiot. And a wimp, she grumbled under her breath.

"I'm a what now?" Brandon asked in confusion.

Melodramatic much? Stella mumbled under her breath. "You're a cop, dammit!" she replied back in frustration, scowling at him. His sudden, back and forth memory lapses were beginning to give her headaches. And honestly, it was getting on her nerves.

Brandon let her go and scratched his head, trying to remember, but it was in vain. I'm police? he repeated to himself. He stood there for a few seconds, staring at nothing in particular. His eyes soon shifted to the gun that rested innocently on the floor, awaiting the affection of its owner.

Stella watched him bend down and pick it up slowly.

Police…? No wonder the movie downstairs seemed so familiar. It was his profession. Hopefully except for the part where the police officer is hunted down by thugs and brutally murdered. He imagined himself in a police uniform. Hopefully, he wasn't the type of officer to just swing around residential neighborhoods for noisy teenagers and wild parties. Those pitch-black uniforms and the cool gadgets, the highlight of them being a gun, that hung around the belt…it was a pretty cool picture. At the mere thought of that, a small smile graced his face as the realization sunk in. His smile slowly stretched into a wide grin. He was a cop. Now that was just a dope-ass occupation. At eighteen, he didn't quite imagine himself in the future as a policeman, but he's gotta say…he was pleasantly surprised. Stoked!

" Then why didn't you just say that before?" he replied casually before turning around and taking out the gun again, leaving her to scoff. When did he give her the chance? He was too busy shaking her around like a rag doll. "Hold up. Why didn't you tell me this in the hospital?" he asked, pointing an accusing finger at her crossly.

"Oh, jeez. Like Your Highness actually had the time of day to even say a hello to me," Stella sweetly smiled, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

The back of his neck burned as his accusing face dropped into a sheepish one. "Okay, I deserve that," he chuckled, raising his hands in surrender.

After a quiet moment, Stella remained silent as she gauged the unexplainable happiness in his eyes. He was practically bubbling with excitement at this newfound information. Obviously, when his colleagues from work had sent flowers and get-well-soon presents, he hadn't paid much attention. She was a little surprised that it took him an aimless treasure hunt to figure out what it is that he did in life. She smiled faintly while her face transformed to that one of awe and pride. Even back then...he was such a good guy, always wanting to make a difference.

She watched him stare at the gun with wonder and curiosity. He didn't seem scared of that thing anymore. "So, you're not afraid of it anymore?" she asked. A part of her was curious about his answer but another part of her hoped he'd say yes. She was never a fan of his job. She would never want him to give up that means so much to him but at the same time, she didn't think it was selfish of her to prioritize her husband's well-being.

Brandon gave her a small glance before grinning like a fool at his shiny new toy. His smile gave her the answer she needed, not that she doubted otherwise anyway. He beamed with pride, fixating his gaze towards his gun. "Ha!" he started posing around like a hero, smiling like a complete moron while forgetting that he's practically making a fool of himself in front of her.

Gazing at that gun like a lovesick fool, he started walking away. She didn't stop him, her thoughts lost on another topic entirely. He obviously wasn't scared of that thing. It was clear that he's already in love with his job even though he didn't remember any of it.

"I'm thinking of quitting..."

"I love you even more."

Stella's eyes glistened at the loving words he once whispered to her just a few weeks ago. She could still hear that warm and loving voice of his in her ears, a complete contrast to what she's been hearing since the accident. For once, she was thankful for his amnesia. It gave her a different and unique perspective. It showed her the immeasurable love he always pledged that he'll have for her. Or rather...had.

Stella looked down at her finger where two rings rested. One was from her engagement and another was from the wedding. Neither ring left her finger since the day he put it on her. And she had no intention of taking them off ever.

As much as it would break her heart if he never remembered the last four years...she hoped that he would love her again one day. She could only wait and see. She missed him so much. She wondered how much he really loved her to give up — to sacrifice — something he loved just as much.

"Stella!" Brandon grinned while running back into the room again, out of nowhere.

Stella gasped and quickly blinked back the sad, wishful eyes before smiling at him. "Yeah? "

"So... what do I really do? Did I ever get shot?!" he grinned like a Cheshire cat, clearing getting way too excited.

Stella raised an eyebrow at his over-enthusiasm. "You're kidding, right? Even a total moron with no memories would know that getting fired at is no fun."

Brandon rolled his eyes at her judgmental assessment. "Come on, just tell me!" he asked.

This must be really funny to him, Stella scowled at him while crossing her arms.

Stella rushed with excitement when the doorbell rang. FINALLY! After one whole freaking week! But her exhilaration died out in the next second. "WHAT THE HELL?!" she immediately cried out as she opened the door, revealing an exhausted brunet with a bandaged arm. He was clutching his stomach painfully while trying not to let it show on his face.

"Hey, Stel," he smiled tiredly while wrapping the uninjured arm around her body and leaning in to kiss her forehead, completely ignoring her outburst.

Stella's eyes flooded with tears. "Are you shot?" she asked tearfully, scared out of her mind.

Brandon entered the home and closed it behind him. "I'm fine," he smiled tightly while leaning against the door.

Stella blinked up at him in shock and covered her mouth. "No... you're...you're..." she whimpered, honestly scared.

Brandon's eyes widened at the fear in her tone. She was shaking, presumably at the sight of a bloody bandage on his arm. He instantly took her in his arms and clutched her trembling body close to himself. "Shhh, calm down. I'm okay. See?" he chided comfortingly. "It was just on the arm, Sunshine."

"But..." she protested while trying to lift up his shirt to see the extent of the damage.

Brandon placed a hand over hers and made her look up at him. "It looks a lot worse than it really is," he grinned sheepishly while pulling the shirt down to hide the wound.

Stella closed her eyes at the memory. It was the first time she had ever seen him get hurt like that. It was also the first time where she had been genuinely scared for his life. That was also around the time they first moved in together. After seeing him with a bullet wound, she immediately started pestering him to quit his job for his own good and find safer career options. Not that he listened.

She initially thought that him being a police officer and carrying around a shiny weapon was cool too, but she underestimated the seriousness and danger of it until he came home in battle scars one day. And she never wanted a revisit of that episode.

Brandon frowned at her silence. She looked really uncomfortable and was trying her best to keep a straight face.

"I did...didn't I?" he asked slowly, his glee dying down. Her pained features killed his exhilaration within seconds. His shoulders slumped slowly as the gun felt back to his side.

"Yeah..." Stella nodded softly. "You did."

"...Did I... did I come home like that...?" Brandon asked again with a slight clenched jaw while his free hand knotted into a fist.

Stella fidgeted with her fingers. "Yeah," she murmured, nodding slowly. Not just once or twice. Since they moved in together, he came home in bullet wounds three times. He always told her that they just grazed him but she never could tell how much truth was there in his attempts at reassurance.

Brandon nodded at her answer before glancing at the shiny new toy in his hands with a deep frown. Without another word, he gently pushed past Stella before setting the gun on top of the drawer chest. With a deep frown, he raked a hand through his chestnut mane. He cursed something under his breath, too low to pick up on.

Stella's lips parted into a surprised 'oh' as he left the room and down the stairs, dejected. Confused, she followed him hastily as he jumped over the railing while nearing the last flight of stairs. "Brandon, wait!" Stella called after him while rushing down the steps like a normal human. Clearly, she's not as athletic as he is.

He didn't listen to her and kept on walking to wherever the hell this hallway is taking him.

"Waaaaiiittt!" Stella called after him before lounging after him and grabbing his arm. He halted when she tugged at his sleeve harshly. "Why are you so upset?" she asked cluelessly. "I thought you loved your job—"

"I did," he interrupted harshly before pushing her hand away, causing her to flinch with hurt. She gave him a wounded look before stepping back from him. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," he mumbled.

"Did you remember something?" Stella asked in confusion. He was elated about his job for one second and then moping around the next. She wondered if amnesia came with a split personality too.

"No, I..." he trailed off. "...I...um..."

"Tell me what's wrong," Stella insisted. "Do you hurt anywhere?" she asked cluelessly while raising her hand to touch his forehead but withdrew immediately since he pushed her away earlier.

He watched as her hand dejectedly fell back to her side. He glanced into her deep amber eyes, swirling with concerned pools of molten gold. With a bit of hesitance, Brandon reached down and gently held her hand in his. She looked surprised by his touch. "I just…I wish you hadn't seen me like that," he said sincerely, surprising her even more. She listened to him with wide eyes. The irritation in his voice as he stared at the concerned female in front of him. "...Weren't you ever afraid of me?" he asked, his eyes softly laced with guilt. "Because of something like this?"

"…If I was afraid of you, I wouldn't be here today," she answered honestly. She bit her lip before tentatively placing her hand above his heart. "I'm here today because I love and miss him," she whispered. "I miss you," she admitted, glancing up at him. "You wouldn't have given up on me if I was in your shoes. So, why would I?"

He gazed into her light brown eyes, once again losing himself into her depths and remaining unable to answer. What could he say anyway? She was so confident in her answer. She was so confident of his love for her. Her love for him shone through her eyes and was as clear as day even to a dense blockhead like himself. He couldn't help but feel…touched. He didn't know what she saw in him. Frankly, he didn't know if he cared. Most people would kill for what he has: a loving wife. A family of his own. In his opinion, getting married at twenty-four was still too young and it's not something he had ever envisioned for himself. Hell, he never thought he'd be cut out for a steady girlfriend, let alone be riding the marriage horse. Thirty years. He would've guessed he would be married when he's around twenty-nine or thirty. Definitely not twenty-four. He wondered how old she was. She seemed younger than him, but he didn't know how old she was.

He recalled the photo album he had seen earlier. She turned twenty all those years ago. He quickly did the calculation. She's only twenty-three?! The hell? How did he even meet her? Certainly, she can't be from the same college he went to. Or is she?

He opened his mouth to ask when she beat him to it.

"…By the way…where did you find that gun …?" she asked cluelessly before removing her hand from his and going to the stairs to head back to the bedroom. If there was a gun in their master bedroom, she wanted to know why. She had told Brandon that the only way she'll ever sleep in the same room as him if its free of the remnants of his work life.

"Either you keep that thing somewhere else or I'm sleeping in the guest room," the blonde scowled, folding her arms.

"Stell—" the brunet tried to protest.

"No. I want to sleep without worrying about a homicidal weapon standing ten feet away from me," the blonde said defiantly.

Brandon sighed before shaking his head and leaving the room with his gun and uniform in hand. A few minutes later, he returned again to the bedroom. "Happy now?" he mumbled, irritated. He mumbled a stream of curses that were a little too inappropriate for human ears.

Stella watched him fall on the bed with a flop. With a hand underneath his head and another on his waist, he closed his eyes in irritation. She frowned before closing the bedroom doors. She soon crawled into the bed with him before scooting closer to him. She felt his body stiffen and knew he wasn't asleep. "Do you hate me?" she mumbled before uninvitedly nuzzling herself into his arms.

He remained silent and didn't reciprocate her gestures.

"Brandon," she whined, tugging on his shirt. She placed her head on his chest. "Don't hate me," she pouted.

He was still silent.

This irked her. "Hello! I'm talking to you," she poked him harshly.

"I'm trying to sleep," he said, his voice kept low. "Stop annoying me, blondie."

She sighed before hugging him, not that he held her back. "…What if that gun accidentally ends up shooting that vase or something?" she mumbled childishly. "I mean, I know I'm a heavy sleeper, but if that gun fires at my clothes, that will definitely get my attention."

Brandon opened his eyes at her words. His irritation faded away almost instantly, and he found himself suppressing a smile at her rambles.

"It's not my fault I'm scared of that thing…" she whispered.

This got his attention. Without a word, he withdrew the hand on his waist and used the arm to wound it around her. "…You're scared of it?" he gently asked, turning to her.

"I don't like seeing it," she admitted. "Not when we're at home, at least."

Brandon thought for a moment before turning to her. "Then you won't," he promised before kissing the top of her head.

Stella shook her head at that conversation. So much for that. She wanted to know just where he found this thing.

Brandon stared after her, confused. "You didn't know where it was?" he asked, following her.

"And you better hope I don't," she grumbled under her breath. The second he gets those memories back, this will be the first thing she's gonna confront him about it.

They headed off into the bedroom, where Stella's eyes lay on the drawer of socks and clothes on the floor. She turned to him, waiting for an explanation.

Silently, he pointed underneath the chest.

Stella bent and gasped at the outrageously large hole underneath the first drawer. "Are you kidding me?!" she gaped at the fancy little compartment that was somehow installed into their furniture.

Shrugging, he bent to pick up the second drawer and nudged her aside before pushing it inside the chest.

Stella peeped inside the second drawer. She opened this drawer every damn day. In fact, she opened this thing just an hour or so ago to wear her pajamas! "What the hell, Brandon?! You hid them in my socks?!" she asked, stunned. "What if I had touched it and it ended up shooting my finger off?" she turned to him, bewildered.

For some reason, that made him laugh. "Well, hiding it in the most obvious of places won't make you look for it now, would it?" he smirked.

"But I always wear socks," she pouted. "How did I not notice that thing in there?" she asked, scratching her head and peeping into the drawer once more.

He chuckled. "It's obvious that you're not that observant," he said with a victorious smirk, shaking his head at her obvious blindness to the secret compartment, a.k.a. false bottom, underneath the above drawer.

She glared at him. "There weren't supposed to be any homicidal weapons in this room," she said as a matter of fact. "A rule which you violated."

"And which I also forgot about," he retorted right on cue, telling her that she doesn't have a right to blame him if he never remembers doing it in the first place.

"W-Well…!" She tried to protest. Memories or not, she can't win a war of words with this guy. "I'm going back to the movie which you rudely interrupted," she said as a matter of fact.

She turned on her heel and left the room, missing the smile on his face, which followed her until she disappeared out of his sight.

As Stella treaded down the stairs, she suddenly stopped on the last few steps, her left foot a step above the right one. Hold up a sec. How did Brandon even know where that gun was…? Stella glanced at the master bedroom. Those drawers weren't exactly advertising the vibe. Surely, it can't be a coincidence that he just "found" it. She didn't believe that. He really had to deliberately take the drawer out and peek inside the shadowed cavern to get a view of the compartment, all of which are not possible if he didn't know there was something hidden in there.

Her eyes flushed with excitement. So, that means…he's remembering? Surely, he must've had a déjà vu moment. She recalled the doctors' words that if amnesia patients are placed in surroundings that they have emotional attachments to, there is a well-known chance they'll remember certain things, at least for a few moments. That must be what happened to him as well!

She, however, chose not to confront him about it. He was already freaked enough over her presence. Knowing the eighteen-year-old him, he'll probably just flat out deny her claims.

She heard things shuffling upstairs and guessed he was back to his "sightseeing" again. Well, if exploring the house will trigger his memories even by just a little bit, she's all for it.

Smiling to herself, she ventured back to the living room and cuddled up on the couch before pressing play on the remote.

And this time, the movie was indeed enjoyable.

---

One hour later…

Halfway into the movie, a cozied Stella raised her head to see a nonchalant Brandon climbing down the stairs. He raked a hand through his chestnut mane, causing a few strands to flip back and fall over his forehead. For some reason, that made her blush. He always manages to look so damn good even if he's just in his sweats and night shirt.

As he reached the last few steps, his gaze turned to her.

Wiping the goofy blush on her face, she chose to smirk instead. "Are you done snooping?" she asked.

He smirked. "It's not snooping. It's interacting with everything around you and getting familiar with your surroundings," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh, excuse me. Are you done "interacting with everything around you and getting familiar with your surroundings"?" she snorted, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Chuckling, he rolled his eyes at her jibe before approaching the couch. "So, I'm a cop, right?" he said. "What do you do?" he asked curiously before flopping down beside her and placing his feet on the table in front of him. Relaxed, he folded his arms and turned to her.

"I work in the fashion industry as an executive designer," she smiled.

He nodded. "Good," he murmured. He was glad that he hadn't met her in a risky line of work like law enforcement.

"Hmm?"

He shook his head. "So, how did I meet you?" he asked curiously.

"A wild rave had gotten out of hand and uh…you were sent to control the situation," she blushed.

"What, did I arrest you?" he smirked, nudging her shoulder.

"I'll have you know that I'm a good girl," she said proudly with her chin and in a matter-of-fact tone.

He let out a 'tsk'. "Lying to a police officer never ends well."

"I'm telling the truth!" she giggled.

"…Did you ever throw wild parties when I'm not around?" he continued to tease.

"Nooooo," she shook her head vehemently.

"Tell the truth," he insisted. "I'm not the old me," he grinned wolfishly. "No judgment, promise," he said, crossing his heart.

She thought for a moment. "You never approved parties without "supervision", so…" she blushed, trailing off.

"As much as I like picking you up, I'd rather it not be from the same party I'm sent to control," he frowned at her, shaking his head.

"It's just a party. Lighten up!" Stella giggled at her boyfriend of three months.

He turned to her, folding his arms. "I think I'll just arrest you just, so I can keep an eye on you," he said in a peeved voice.

She giggled. "Go right ahead, officer," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'll have you know that I'll just call my boyfriend. He'll bail me out in a jiff," she said proudly.

He suppressed a smile. "And just why will he do that, Ms. Solaria?"

"Um…" she scratched her head sheepishly. "…Because I'm a good girlfriend…?"

"I'll be the judge of that," he rolled his eyes. "And right now, you're doing a terrible job."

"Hey, it's not even my fault! It was those guys—"

"I don't care. You're equally responsible. And since I can't trust you to behave yourself, you need supervision. Get in the car," he ordered, unlocking the vehicle.

"What supervision?" she asked in confusion as he got in the driver's side.

"The kind that I'll arrest you if I catch you at those dumb frat parties again," he declared. "I'm not even kidding."

"Jeez, controlling much?" she grumbled under her breath, folding her arms.

"Call it whatever you like. I'm not having my girlfriend in a place like that again," he said.

"And I'd like it if my so-called boyfriend can trust me a little!" she barked back.

He fell still for a moment. He turned to her. "…It's not you I don't trust. It's the people around you."

And this time, it was her turn to fall still as he started the ignition and swerved the car smoothly onto the streets.

"Earth to Stella!"

Stella blinked when she saw a hand in front of her fingers. "Sorry, what?" she snapped out of her trance and turned to Brandon.

He sighed and shook his head. "I asked you if you ever—"

He was cut off when the doorbell rang suddenly.

Stella narrowed her eyes, wondering who that could be. She wasn't expecting anyone. She got up from the couch and adjusted her shirt a little. The bell continued to holler impatiently, irking her. "Okay, okay, I'm coming, hold your horses!" she hollered right back, making him facepalm and chuckle.

He shook his head in amusement and followed her with his eyes as she ran up to answer the front door.

Stella opened the door only for her eyes to widen in delight. "Heather, Lucas! Hey, guys!" she smiled before hugging them both.

"Hi, honey," Heather smiled, hugging the blonde back. "I hope we're not intruding…?"

"Of course not," Stella grinned. "Come on in."

"Since Brandon was discharged today, we just wanted to see how he's doing," Lucas smiled.

Brandon stood up from his seat. "Hi, Dad. Hi, Mom," he smiled at them.

Heather came over and kissed his cheek. "You doing okay?" she asked in concern.

Brandon nodded.

"You guys had your lunch yet?" Stella asked.

They both shook their heads. "We'll head out soon and—"

"You can head out right after you eat. You guys get comfortable and I'll be right back," Stella smiled at them warmly. With that, she headed off towards the kitchen.

Brandon watched in fascination at Stella's ease with his parents. She seems more of a daughter to his parents than a daughter-in-law.

"Well," Heather's voice got his attention. "How are you both really doing?" she asked with a pointed glance, well aware of his not-so-stellar behavior with his wife for the past few weeks.

"Yeah…um…we're fine," the brunet said awkwardly. It was beyond embarrassing to talk about his relationship issues with his mother out of all people.

Heather gave him another stern look before nodding. "I'll go and help her," she said before nodding towards the two men and following Stella into the kitchen.

Lucas patted his back. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Why is everyone asking me the same question dozens of times?" Brandon sighed, irritated.

Lucas laughed. "When you have a son of your own one day, you'll know," he chuckled.

Brandon's eyes bugged out of his mind. "S-Son?!" he squeaked, staring at his father in horror.

Oh, brother. Lucas immediately raised his hands in surrender, remembering his son's mental state. "I mean, in the future. Wayyyy into the future. Not now," he shook his head, reassuring the momentarily panicked Brandon.

Brandon stared at his father for a moment before excusing himself to get a glance of water.

---

"You know, sweetheart, even you need a break every once in a while," Heather suggested. "You've been working too hard the past few weeks."

"It's fine, Heather. Really," the blonde smiled. And Stella meant it. Brandon's sour mood and asshole attitude has considerably improved since they came home. And that was a major understatement. "So, how was your day?" she asked, shifting the topic away from her.

"It was okay. I was talking to Luna just a while ago, actually," Heather said slowly.

"Ok-ay?" the blonde nodded with a short laugh. It actually seemed that Heather had something more to say. "Something on your mind?"

"What? Noooo," Heather laughed.

Stella sent her a dry look. Heather looked like a deer caught in headlights. "I know that look, Heather. I invented that look. So, spill."

Heather nervously laughed. "…Heh. Well…this really isn't the right time, you know?"

"For what?" Stella asked in confusion. "What were you and Mom talking about?"

Heather sighed. "…Well…" she started. "It's been two years since you both got married and well…we're hoping for grandchildren," she confessed.

In the meantime, Brandon, who approached the kitchen, had heard the words his mother said in a low volume. His eyes widened. The hell? Is this why his parents had dropped by all of a sudden? To grill them about kids?! Oh, this is one visit he's not approving.

Stella's eyes widened, freezing in shock. She stared at Heather. "…You're right. This so isn't the right time," the blonde pointed with narrowed eyes.

Heather sighed. "I know, I know, but it doesn't hurt to hope now, does it?"

Stella's eyes widened. "…Heather...we're not ready for that. And clearly not, especially now! Brandon and I did talk about it, and we wanted to wait for a few more years."

Brandon listened in curiously and nodded with the blonde. He obviously didn't remember any of that but at least he shared the sentiments. Honestly…he's just beginning to feel twenty-six. Mentally, he was nowhere near ready for offspring. He's too young to take care of screaming infants! He can barely take care of himself, let alone another human being!

"It doesn't hurt to try…" Heather chuckled. "I'm ready for you guys to have kids."

Stella chuckled. "Good for you," she laughed. "Your son barely knows my name as is, so he'll probably freak if I just go and jump him," the blonde sourly muttered under her breath.

Brandon facepalmed and stifled a laugh at her way with words. Considering he saw her lingerie this afternoon and her in a freaking towel...I wouldn't mind, he thought before slapping himself.

Heather laughed, shaking her head before placing a few portions of the food on each plate. The food was still warm.

"I'll set the table," Stella said.

Brandon gasped and took a few steps back as if to give the impression that he's "just" entering the kitchen. The blonde exited out of the kitchen before suddenly gasping, catching sight of him. She stared at him with her eyes wide open. Please tell me he didn't hear that, she paled.

He had a look of indifference as he glanced at her. "What are you two up to?" he asked casually, pretending that he wasn't being an uninvited eavesdropper.

She turned a beet red. "N-Nothing!" she stuttered. "You know, just girl stuff," she said airily.

He didn't comment. Her rose-pink infused cheeks were a dead giveaway. She was blushing, a reaction that he found endearing on her. Not that he'll tell her that, of course.

Amusement danced in his eyes and a faint smile spread across his lips as he watched her scurry away from him in complete embarrassment. He couldn't help but chuckle at her priceless reaction.

---

~ 4:30 PM ~

Heather and Lucas didn't stay for long. They left pretty quickly. It seemed that all they came for was to hint the mentally dysfunctional couple to start thinking about kids.

Brandon shook his head. He was actually glad that they left. It was just too awkward. He watched Stella close the front door and lock it.

The brunet checked the time in the analogous clock perched on the wall. 4:31 PM. The day was still deliriously young.

Hmm. He wondered what else he can do to occupy himself with. Wait a sec. This is the twenty-first century. Phones! "Hey, Stella, where's my phone?" he asked the blonde.

"Um…" the blonde scratched her head, thinking. It's been with her since the accident. "In my purse," she answered before going over to the dining table. She opened her bag before fishing through the contents for his phone. She took out a sleek, black-cased phone along with its charger as well. Poor thing must be dead for being unattended to for two weeks straight. The blonde handed both of them to him before sitting back on the couch in the living room. The brunet immediately plugged his phone into the nearest outlet and sat with her on the couch.

Stella shook her head at the paused movie on the screen. Wow. She really can't get through a two-hour movie without facing a dozen interruptions now, can she? Shaking her head, she resumed it again and snuggled into the sofa.

Brandon poked her before showing her the locked screen on his phone.

He watched Stella type in the numerical code. 2-4-6-8.

He gaped. "You have got to be kidding. My password is this obvious?" he asked, baffled.

She smirked. "Well, having the most obvious password won't make anyone try it now, would it?"

He chuckled. She was clearly getting back at his earlier comment about obviousness. Not so subtly. He turned to his phone while the blonde continued watching her movie. The smile on his lips faded at the wallpaper on his phone. Honestly, why is he even surprised? He snuck a glance at the oblivious blonde before turning back to the wallpaper. The photo seemed to have been snapped in this house actually. They were both standing in front of a giant Christmas tree. He had his arm around Stella's shoulders as they both grinned widely for the camera.

He opened the Photos app. More pictures of them followed. Each picture continued to enthrall him. He just couldn't imagine himself loving someone to this extent that at every twist and turn, he'd find only her. It awed him but more so at the woman that's responsible for such a change in him. He didn't know what he was like when he met her but a part of him was glad that he did. It's not easy in such a cruel world to find someone who'd love you and accept you for who you are.

With a faint smile, he sat with Stella silently, choosing to be in her company for the first time since he met her. He truly wanted to know who she is and what she was like as a person. From the few hours he genuinely spent with her, he could make out that she was a joyous girl. There was a naïve, childlike charm to her that made her amusing to him and made him smile. It was almost warming.

Thirty to forty minutes later, he cast his phone aside and watched the movie along with her. He didn't know for how long the show has been running when he felt a gentle weight fall against his shoulder. He looked down to see that it was Stella's head and she was fast asleep. She must've been asleep for a while.

It was odd to see someone sleeping in the middle of the day but even he could tell that she was worn out. She's been worried about him for days now. Immediately after reaching home, she hadn't stopped to take a break even for a few minutes. She threw herself in the kitchen to cook. He honestly wondered where she got her energy from. He didn't have the heart to push her head away or wake her. If anything, he actually liked the feel of her body against his.

Letting her sleep to her content, he pulled up the blanket till her chin. He watched her chest rise and fall in slow, relaxed rhythms. His eyes trailed up to her peaceful face. He watched her sleep, the effect of it somehow soothing him gently. He reached his hand to caress her cheek but withdrew his hand immediately. He longed to touch her face but held himself on the one fact that he doesn't know her well enough yet. "Sweet dreams, Stella," he murmured before he dropped his hands and turned to the TV, barely paying any attention to the rapidly flickering images.

"Did you see that?" she whispered in awe. She never once thought she'd see a shooting star. She quickly closed her eyes and made a wish before it disappeared.

He raised a curious eyebrow. "What did you wish for?"

She bit her lip. "I wished that we would always be this way…forever," she said shyly. "That I'll always get to be with you," she admitted.

He raised another arched brow before letting out an amused laugh. He turned his body towards her before tucking a lock of hair behind her ear affectionately. "I think you just wasted a wish, love," he smirked. His amused eyes lost traces of sarcasm and wit before he spoke again. "Because nothing will ever change between us," he promised her before leaning down to gently kiss her forehead, a smile stretching across his lips as he did so. "And nothing will ever keep you away from me," he softly said, his voice dropping into a gentle whisper as his breath softly hovered over the shell of her ear.

She smiled in sheer happiness as he tightened his grip on her. They finally fell asleep in each other's arms under the starry night.

---

AN: Thank you for reading! Again, I'm really sorry to that guest reviewer who left the review. I won't be discontinuing or giving the story to someone else. I will DEFINITELY finish it one day. That's my goal, actually, to finish all my unfinished stories before starting any new ones. I'm working on another unfinished story like I mentioned in the above AN, so I'll get to this after that one is finished.

I wrote this chapter in about four-ish hours, so I know that it's hurried and not properly proofread, but I guess I didn't want to make people feel like I'm abandoning anything because, in truth, I'm not. Life is only unhurried (or it seems that way) until you're in high school. After that…it runs faster than you can ever imagine. That's the only reason I wasn't able to update till now.

By the way, were the snippets in between annoying? Guilty as charged, I inserted them whenever I ran out of ideas to write xD Let me know?

Thank you :)!