Your hand lightly traces over the smiling faces in the photograph you’d been staring at for the last few minutes. You could tell that the two people were happy, could see in the way they were staring into each other’s eyes that they were very much in love.

You knew the smiling blonde was you, the handsome man your boyfriend. But you didn’t remember the day the picture had been taken, didn’t remember the details or any of the feelings captured. It was just like every other photo you’d looked at today. You remembered none of it. You only knew who the people in the pictures were because you’d been told.

You toss the photo album against the wall in frustration, tears springing behind your eyes. Everyone told you to be patient, that your memories would come back, but you were tired of being patient. Tired of the way everyone looked at you, like they had to tiptoe around you.

Rafe hurries into the room, no doubt alerted by the bang the album had made when it hit the wall. He’s by your side immediately, wrapping you up in his strong arms, his hand stroking your hair soothingly. And it all makes you want to scream.

You hate the way he looks at you now. His eyes are always filled with guilt and worry. So different from the way he looked at you in the photos you’d stared at.

You’ve heard him on the phone when he thought you were sleeping, confessing that he blames himself for the accident that caused your amnesia. Saying that if it wasn’t for him you never would’ve been placed in that kind of danger. On these nights you want to reach for him, to tell him you love him. But you always hold back, because you’re just so angry. You know what you should say, but you don’t know that you feel it.

“What can I do?” Rafe’s voice is low and gravely, he sounds exhausted. His eyes search your face, looking for any sign that you remember all that the two of you are. He lets out a frustrated sigh when he sees nothing, his hands dropping to his side.