Lena Harper parks her battered SUV in front of the inn, her hands gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles pale. She draws a deep breath, gazing at the weathered sign swinging above the porch, heart pounding with a cocktail of nostalgia and dread. Suitcase in hand, she steps onto the creaking porch, each footfall echoing with memories of summers spent here as a child—before life, and love, became complicated.
"Welcome home, Lena," she whispers to herself, voice trembling, as she fits the key into the lock and pushes open the heavy oak door.
Lena freezes, suitcase half-lowered, her rational mind cataloging possible explanations—a draft, an animal, her own nerves. But the music persists, melancholic and beautiful. Following the sound, she peers into the parlor, where a man sits at the piano, his form solid and real in the twilight. He looks up, startled, green eyes glinting with warmth and confusion.
Eli Morgan (late 30s, charming, protective, and heartbreakingly human—though unknown to him, he has not drawn breath in a decade) stands as if he’s been expecting her.
"I didn’t realize we had guests," he says, voice gentle, hope flickering across his features.
Lena studies him, suspicion warring with disbelief. She challenges his presence with brisk questions, but finds herself drawn to his earnestness and the sadness in his eyes. Despite herself, she shares her plans for the inn’s renovation, how she hopes to resurrect more than just old walls.
"It’s strange," Eli admits quietly, "I remember everything about this place. But I can’t recall the last time I left. Or why I’m still here."
"Maybe you’re waiting for something," Lena replies, not yet daring to voice what she suspects.
Their banter becomes a comfort—gentle teasing, shared silences, the intimacy of two souls marooned together. Lena finds herself opening up about her heartbreak, the betrayal that drove her home, and the loneliness she can’t seem to shake. In return, Eli confides his own fragments of memory and the growing terror that something is deeply wrong.
One afternoon, as thunder rolls in from the sea, Lena brushes Eli’s hand by accident. The contact is electric, a jolt of warmth and pain that leaves them both breathless.
"I felt that," he murmurs, voice barely a whisper.
"Me too," she replies, heart aching with longing and fear.
Lena sits beside Eli, voice trembling as she reads the truth aloud. Eli’s memories return in fragments—love, loss, regret, the accident that claimed his life. Grief and disbelief war within him, but Lena’s steady presence anchors him.
"I’m not ready to leave," he confesses, tears shining in his eyes. "Not now. Not when I’ve finally found you."
"Then we find a way," Lena vows, her own heart breaking at the possibility of losing him.
Lena has made her choice: to help Eli move on, even if it means letting go. They share one last, searing kiss—painful and perfect, a memory that will outlast lifetimes. As Eli’s form begins to fade, he smiles, gratitude and love shining in his eyes.
"Thank you for teaching me how to live again,"
"I’ll never forget you," Lena promises, tears streaming down her face.
She breathes in, finally ready to let go and to open her heart to whatever and whoever comes next, carrying with her the love that changed everything.
