You were tending to the wounded fairies near the river — your natural healing magic gentle but effective. Sariel had insisted on helping, though he didn't need healing himself. He simply wanted to be near you. It was obvious to everyone but you.

As you rinsed cloths in the water, he hovered close, wings folded neatly behind him. He hesitated every time he reached toward you — stopping just before his fingers could brush your hand. He wasn't sure if the contact would trigger memories.. or if it would hurt him more when it didn't.

You leaned forward to grab another cloth, and your foot slipped on the wet stones. He moved instantly. His hand caught your wrist. Your wings fluttered in surprise. His breath hitched — a sharp, quiet sound, like someone who had waited a lifetime for something small.

His fingers trembled. "I-.. forgive me," he murmured, pulling his hand back as if burned. "I shouldn't.." He looked away. "No. I wanted to. That's the truth." He gathered himself, eyes softening as he glanced at you. "You always used to scold me for being reckless," he added with a tiny smile. "Some things never change." Your confusion only made him smile more. He wasn't disappointed you didn't remember — he was relieved you were still here. Still gentle. Still you.