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“You’re holding on remarkably well, Ethan. You should be proud of yourself.” Sheila Moore, LMFT, the therapist Olivia recommended to me, smiles, and sets down her notebook.

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

“Has anyone ever said you’re too hard on yourself?”

I snort.

“Too many times.”

“I thought so.” She sits back in her leather chair and perches her reading glasses on top of her brown hair.

“What do you want? If you never experienced these events, what would you want to do?”

My breath hitches.

It’s a no-brainer. “Be with Lexy. Love her. Grow old with her. Do her bucket list with her. Add more items to her list.”

The images spin in my mind—a beautiful slideshow tugging at my heart.

“Does she love you back?”

“Of course she does. Even if she doesn’t remember our past. She…she risked her life for me. You don’t do that for someone you don’t care about.” I grip my cuff link then slide out the cover, revealing the painting of the bird that’ll forever remind me of her.

“What would you do if your places were switched, if you were the one who lost your memories, but you fell in love with her again? And one day, she was in danger and you jumped in, no questions asked, to save her, but it triggered her fears. What would you say to her? ”

I trace the wings on the hummingbird; her smile all those years ago appearing behind my eyelids.

She was so excited to find a pair of cuff links that matched the earrings I gave her.

“I’d remind her of her motto, ‘don’t wait to live because the clock keeps ticking.’” I smile, thinking about the hope in her eyes whenever she said the phrase in the past.

She’s so inspiring.

Taking a deep breath, I continue, “I’d tell her not to let her fears hold her back from her happy ending. To take it one day at a time and I’ll be with her every step of the way—good days, bad days.”

The words ring true.

Because if our roles were switched, I’d want a lifetime with her, even if the lifetime included fights or tears, moments where she’d pull away or be angry at me.

Because for every one of those moments, there’d be ten more that were happy and hopeful.

Ten more moments filled with so much love, we’d forget what we went through, and the past would feel like a faint echo, something that strengthened us.

Because we survived.

“It isn’t easy, having PTSD. You just encountered an intense, triggering event. It makes sense to be afraid. In fact, I’d be worried if you didn’t. But think about what you just told me. How easy that answer came to you if your positions were reversed.”

Sheila leans forward, her eyes intent on mine.

“You’re taking the first step to reclaim your future by facing your past. It’s the hardest step. And you just told me, with remarkable clarity, what the objective you, not muddled with fear or anxiety, would do.”

A lump forms in my throat as I mull over her words.

She’s right. I think deep down, when I sought her out, I knew the path forward.

I needed to face my problems so I could enjoy the future with Alexis.

The grandfather clock chimes—my hour is up.

I stand and Sheila follows suit.

Sheila smiles, her gaze compassionate.

“Be proud of yourself for taking this step, for seeing clarity even when your emotions want to take over the reins.”

“Thank you, Sheila.” I shake her hand.

We make an appointment for next week, because I suspect my therapy sessions are long overdue, and it’ll take some time for me to work through everything.

But for now, I feel more in control.

The fear gripping me when I saw her asleep in the hospital recedes into the background.

I miss her, my Nova.

Half an hour later, the smell of worn old books greets me as I step inside Ravenswood Library, a rush of nostalgia soon to follow.

I make my way up the spiral staircase to The Wing of Eternal Dreams.

I paid a small fortune to rename the rare text archival floor after our journey—a lonely keeper who fell in love with a whimsical dreamer in the halls of love stories.

Walking to the hummingbird window, I think back to my beautiful years with Alexis.

Literary scavenger hunts I looked forward to weekly.

Her lips hiking up in a smile as she read my poetry.

Learning I was capable of love after all…

that my heart was waiting for her.

Cooking in my apartment, flour dusting her nose and hair.

Curling up with her on the sofa, watching movies and listening to the rain.

My fingers graze the red belly of the stained glass bird and gaze at the courtyard below.

The skies are dreary, clouds hanging low.

Will today bring the first snow of the year?

She’s always loved the first snowfall.

I wonder what she’s doing now.

She had a courier deliver a letter the afternoon I checked out of the hospital, a response to the note I left her on her nightstand.

Ethan,

I understand.

I’ll give you time. But I won’t give up and neither should you.

Always yours,

Lexy

I asked the courier to wait while I scribbled a response to her.

My Nova,

Thank you for your love.

And your patience.

I will get there, I promise you.

Ethan

My breath fogs up the window as I admire the barren branches of the beech tree swaying to the wind.

Then, as if I willed it, glittering white flecks descend from the sky.

The first snowfall of the new year.