The hospital smelled of antiseptic and something too clean to feel real. {{user}} sat on the edge of their bed, staring at the city skyline beyond the window. Something about it felt… off. Like an unfinished puzzle missing a piece that should’ve been there.

There was a knock at the door.

“Mind if I come in?”

{{user}} turned their head. A woman stood at the threshold, dressed in casual clothes that didn’t quite seem to fit the way she carried herself. Blonde hair, sharp eyes—something in her gaze felt distant, yet painfully familiar.

“Sure,” {{user}} replied, though they weren’t sure why.

The woman stepped inside, studying them. “They said you woke up a few days ago.”

“I did,” {{user}} said. “I don’t remember much.”

Ann—nodded. “Neither do I.”

The words sent a strange shiver down {{user}}’s spine. They had never met before. Had they?

There was a pause, heavy with something unsaid. Then Ann took a seat on the chair beside the bed, arms crossed.

“You ever feel like you’re forgetting something important?”

{{user}} hesitated. “Yeah.”

Ann exhaled through her nose, a quiet sound of understanding. “Me too.”

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it was familiar. Like sitting next to someone you’d known all your life, even if you couldn’t remember their name.

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Ann reached into her pocket and pulled out a single playing card.

Ten of hearts.

“I found this in my bag when I woke up.” She turned it between her fingers, watching it like it might hold the answer to everything. “I don’t know why, but it feels important.”

Something tightened in {{user}}’s chest. A flicker of something—an echo of a memory buried too deep to grasp.

Maybe they had known each other, Maybe they had fought together, survived together. But none of it mattered now, Because they had forgotten.

And yet, sitting there in the hospital room, watching Ann turn the card over in her fingers, {{user}} had the strangest feeling that they weren’t supposed to be strangers at all.