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She hands me the paper bag.

“What is it?” I pull out a large leather book and frown. This looks really familiar.

Then it occurs to me.

This is the book Ethan has in his arms in every one of the artsy photos decorating his apartment and his office.

“He’ll probably kill me when he finds out it’s missing. But I’m thinking if I were you, given what happened, I’d probably quit the medical trial in favor of learning about my past.”

My fingers tremble and my pulse riots inside me as I carry the book to the living room and sit down.

I trace the faded gold lettering on the cover.

Letters to the Universe.

The hairs prickle on my forearms. The answers I’ve been waiting for.

Call it a gut feeling, but I know they lie within these pages.

“Thank you, Lana,” I whisper, unable to tear my gaze away from the scuff marks on the cover.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll leave you to it. I’m a phone call away if you need me,” she murmurs.

A whiff of her rose perfume hits my nose, and I hear her quiet footsteps and the soft click of the door shutting behind her.

My hands fist on top of the book, my heart drumming a rapid beat.

Before what happened on the Delfina, I’d already decided to drop out of the medical trial. I don’t want to let the past hang over me and prevent me from living the future I deserve.

I want to know my love story with Ethan even if I might never remember.

Open it.

The urge grips me—a gut feeling so strong, I have to listen to it.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly flip open the cover and read.

To the Keeper of My Secrets,

Yes. That’s you, the nosy person reading my journal.

A gasp slips out of me, my eyes absorbing the entries a lost girl on the cusp of womanhood wrote to her mysterious pen pal.

A familiar headache forms at the base of my neck, and I know it’ll hurt—whatever I’m going to remember next.

But I can’t stop reading. I can’t flip through the pages fast enough.

These are letters between me and Ethan. I recognize his masculine scrawl.

P.S. Not that this helps, but I don’t think you’re easily forgettable. You know the saying, “A picture speaks a thousand words?” I actually have an opposite belief—words illuminate the soul. I haven’t met you in person, but based on your words, your zest for life, I know you’re the type of person who leaves an impression. You’re unforgettable, remember that. And I’ll always remember you. Don’t be too hard on yourself.

My eyes tear up as I trace his words.You’re unforgettable, remember that. And I’ll always remember you.

How true they are.

“Oh Ethan,” I choke out, watching our love story unfold in front of me.

I hope you find genuine love, even if you don’t believe in it. Perhaps I haven’t experienced the heart-wrenching twist of loving someone. But I’ve seen it. My parents, as flighty as they are, truly love each other. But their love is volatile—a tsunami drowning everyone in the vicinity.