WHEN URIAH OPENS the door, he doesn't expect a certain brunette to be standing on his doorstep in the middle of the night.

But that's the least of his worries.

What worries him the most at this moment is the fact that Louise Santiago looks absolutely devastating, and not in a romanticized pretty way. Because of the worst combination of all types of weather, which is freezing air and pouring rain, she's shaking while her teeth are chattering. He stares at her, befuddled, as she stares back at him under her lashes, and he notices how swollen and red they are. Without even wasting another second, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and brings her in.

When he does, he hears her heavy breathing more clearly. She's concentrated on the ground, not bothering to make eye contact with him, and is extremely unfocused. It's almost as if she doesn't even know where she is at the moment.

"Louise?" he says, but it comes out as a soft whisper, because he's terribly worried. She doesn't answer. Maybe she can't even hear him. "Lou?" He gently places his hands on her shoulders, and bends down to her height to look into her eyes. "Talk to me. Are you okay?"

She opens her mouth, but emits nothing. Slowly, she raises her head to look back at him. Then, he sees fear and vulnerability in her big, glassy eyes; something he doesn't witness very often. He has the biggest urge to pull her into his arms, and kiss her until she's okay, but he knows that it's not right.

Not this time anymore.

Whimpering, she slowly leans into his body and warmth while still maintaining eye contact, "I—I know."

Furrowing his eyebrows, he shakes his head and asks, "What are you—?"

"Uriah?"

He sighs, and shuts his eyes. Great timing, mom. He twists his back, and glances at Grace who's on top of the staircase and has a sleepy look etched across her face. "Yeah, mom?"

"Who was—oh," she says, widening her eyes as she latches her gaze on the shaking girl in his arms. "Is that you, Louise?"

Uriah tenses up. His mother has no idea what happened to Louise. What if she says something that confuses the hell out of her? What if she brings something back from the past and Louise finds out that he's been lying to her all this time? Yeah, she's probably going to do that. He can't have her ruin all his efforts he's been doing to protect her. It can't end like this. It's too risky.

He's about to open his mouth to interject and take Louise away from starting a conversation, but she beats him to it, and replies with a polite and wavering tone, "Yeah. Hi, Mrs. Walter."

"I—uh." Grace Walter's eyebrows knits together, and she tilts her head to the side cluelessly for a second.

Uriah understands her confusion, because he remembers telling her about his bad break up with Louise, and mentioning that they're probably never going to go back together again. It must be odd seeing them together again after three years.

"I apologize for the trouble—"

Grace immediately shakes her head, and interrupts, "It's no problem at all, trust me." She trots down the stairs, a look of concern etches on her face as she takes in Louise's appearance. "It's just been a long time since we've seen each other and . . . you don't look fine."

"Mom," Uriah chimes in, raising his eyebrows. Great, she ruined it. He's sure Louise is bewildered as hell right now, probably wondering how she even met her before. Then, he glances at her, expecting a sign of confusion. However, he notices her lips twitch into a small smile. She looks . . . calm.

Grace puts a hand on her shoulder, and waves her free hand towards the couch. "Sit down, I'll make something warm for you."

Louise responds weakly, "Oh, no, it's fine. I'm not—"

"Mom—"

"You're freezing, honey," she deadpans, giving a stern look to the both of them. "You're going to get seriously ill if you stay in those wet clothes. Uriah, how about you make something warm for her? I'll go upstairs and fetch something for her to wear."

Sighing, he slumps his shoulders, knowing he has no choice but to obey his mom now. Besides, it's for Louise's own good. He knows that she gets cold easily, and thinking that she waited outside their house freezing and drenched? Chills run down his spine as he gives her one last look before striding into the kitchen.

He doesn't even have to ask what she wants to drink. He already knows exactly what she needs.

With a small smile, he gets to work while glancing at her from time to time just in case she's asking for help or fallen asleep. But then, he starts to think of all the possible reasons as to why she's here in the first place. Is it something he did wrong? The way he treats her at work? Does she want to change their friendship into something more strictly business now? Does she know about her past?

He pauses, and then shakes his head. There's no way that can happen unless her memories came back.

He freezes. It's possible, isn't it? He immediately shifts his gaze to her in alarm, and analyzes. But Alison didn't tell me anything about it. Or maybe he's the first one she wants to tell. He sighs in exasperation, and stops his train of thoughts running through his head. He shouldn't be over-thinking about this. It's probably something else.

Picking up the drink he made, he goes back into the living room and offers it to her. "Here you go."

As she takes the mug from him, her cold fingers come in contact with his warm ones, and he can't help but shiver a little. "Thanks." Just then, she slightly squints her eyes at the mug, and says, "This is an odd mug."

Just then, he realizes it's that mug. That mug Louise gave to him on their first anniversary. That mug that's been structured uniquely with a pug's head slightly popping out for a more realistic look. He didn't even realize he chose that specific mug to make a drink for her. It must've slipped his mind.

He chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh, my sister gave that to me on my birthday."

She nods. "So, when is it?"

"What?" He stops fidgeting. "My birthday?" He's about to tell her she should've known this, but then he realizes something. He stifles a sigh. Right. How could she have known?

"Yeah," she says nonchalantly. Then, she holds up a finger in front of him. "Wait, let me guess."

He holds back a smile, because he knows she's most probably not going to get right. Louise is a bad guesser. "Okay. Let's see how good at guessing you are."

Playfully, she raises an eyebrow. "Hey, I'm pretty good at guessing. I bet I can get it the first time."

This time, he doesn't hold back anything. He chuckles, shaking his head. "We'll see about that."

"And if I'm right?"

"I'll grant you a wish."

She breaks into a grin. And suddenly, he feels like capturing this moment. Because even when she looks as dark and empty as the night sky, she still shines like the stars with a smile. Nothing else matters. Just her presence and her happiness.

"Deal."

He shrugs, and then leans back onto the sofa in a relaxing manner. "Take your time." She slightly narrows her eyes at him, scrutinizing his face silently. He merely stares back.

It's only been seconds, but it feels like a whole minute to Uriah when she's trying to come up with an answer. Then, just like that, she snaps her fingers with a look of confidence, and says, "December."

He's impressed. She actually got his birth month right, and maybe that's good enough for now, considering how bad he thought her guess would be. "Okay, so you just got my birth month right, but you don't know when—"

"December twenty-four."

He widens his eyes in surprise, and straightens his back immediately in order to lean forward in front of her. "What?"

The corner of her lips tilt in a sly smile. "Why, did I get it right?"

He can feel his heart starting to beat fast. No, hear. There's no way she could've guessed that. The exact date? Did she ask someone beforehand? From the office? Piper? Alison? "Yeah, but . . . how did you—?"

"Louise," Grace chimes in, walking towards them with a set of clothes in her hands. "Here. Wear these."

Taking them from her, Louise slightly bows her head gratefully. "Thank you, Mrs. Walter."

She waves her off, saying, "Just remember that you're always welcome in this house, okay?" And as she's walking backwards, heading for the stairs, she continues, "Don't sleep late, you two."

Uriah sighs heavily, understanding the double meaning behind his mom's words. "Okay." A bit embarrassed, he brings the topic back that seems to be bothering him a little bit too much at the moment. "Can I just ask how—?"

"Uh, do you mind showing me where's the bathroom?" Louise interjects gently. "I need to change."

He recognizes the forced smile on her face, instantly knowing that she's trying to avoid the topic. He wants to say 'no', and ask for a straight answer. He's starting to get anxious, but he also knows that her health is more important. Any minute longer in her wet clothes, she could get seriously ill.

So instead, he puts his questions away, and nods. "Not at all. Follow me."

         ❄           ❄           ❄

Ten minutes later, Louise exits the bathroom, wearing a sweatshirt and pajama pants that has a light pink colored pattern of bows.

Uriah, who's been waiting for her by the wall next to the bathroom, turns to face her. Seconds later of staring at her up and down, he breaks into a grin. "You look . . ."

She crosses her arms and lightheartedly tells him, "I might be looking ridiculous right now, especially in these pants, but hey. These are your mom's. Don't laugh."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Right."

Before he knows it, he admits, "You actually look kinda cute."

Caught off guard, she looks at him in surprise for a second before fake coughing her way out of the sudden awkwardness. Except, she just made it worse. Uriah looks away all of a sudden, and clears his throat. "Uh, you should sleep on my bed."

Instantaneously, Louise's coughs aren't fake anymore. Because as soon as those words escaped his lips, she choked on her own saliva. "Wh—what?"

His eyes grow, realizing what he just said. "Oh, no, no, no. I didn't mean it that way. What I meant was . . . you're taking the bed, and I'm sleeping on the floor."

"Oh," she wheezes, flattening a palm on her chest in a way to hold her heart steady from coughing like an idiot.

He laughs awkwardly. "Yeah, okay, let's get you under some blankets then."

          ❄           ❄           ❄

On Uriah's bed, there's Louise who's sitting upright against the headboard.

Her lower body's covered with a soft and thick blanket, and she loves how comfortably warm she feels right now. To her expectation, Uriah's bedroom doesn't look messy at all. Not like her dad's at least. It's spacious, and neat. Everything seems to be in place as if nobody even touches them.

But maybe that's why. He's barely home, because of work, and he doesn't get to spend much time to do something else in his spare time.

She feels sorry for him somehow.

And then, in walks Uriah.

"You went back to get your pug mug?" she asks incredulously.

He gives her a look. Earlier, he remembered that she hasn't even drank anything yet, because they'd been on talking about the deal about his birthday. "It's because you didn't even drink your hot chocolate yet."

Realization dawns in her eyes, and she nods in understanding slowly. "Oh. Right." She holds out a hand, motioning him to give it over. "Hurry. I don't like my hot chocolate cold."

I know. "Don't worry. I reheated it." He shrugs as if it's no big deal. "I'm pretty sure mostly everyone doesn't like it cold."

She hums, taking her first sip.

Uriah purses his lips, thinking about what happened earlier. He's still trying to figure out how she knows. It's just . . . what are the odds? Does she have her memory back? Just snippets of it or completely everything? He can't wait any longer.

But what does it matter? You already chose to move on.

He slumps his shoulders, hopeless. It'll never be the same.

"I'm glad you remember how much I love hot chocolate," Louise says quietly, breaking the silence in the room. He tilts his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

She raises her head to look up at him, and he sees that seriousness in her face again just like always. But there's something else too. Something soft . . . and sad. "At least one of us remembers something, right?"

He feels his heart drop, and hears everything that's in the room. The piercing silence. His pounding heart. Her steady breathes. Alison's voice in his head, saying, "She lost her memory." And he feels it. Her heavy gaze. The fear surging in him. The clue that clearly says 'she knows'.

Inhaling deeply, he tells himself to calm down and think rationally.

But there's no time for that.

So the first thing he says is, "What are you talking about?"

She blinks. "You don't have to keep lying about it, Uriah. I know."

He keeps his breathing under control as he sits on the bed, keeping an ample distance from her. "What is it that you know?"

It's ironic how he's the one pretending now. But he knows what's doing now. There's no need to think rationally, because the choice has already been made long ago.

He's protecting her from getting hurt again. From himself.

She lets out a shaky breath, and then presses her lips together tightly as if it hurts for her to say it. To say anything. So she doesn't. She reaches out to his drawer, which is right next to his bed, and grabs something tiny that Uriah hasn't noticed before. When she hands it over to him, he realizes that it's a picture. One that he has seen before. One that he's in.

          ❄           ❄           ❄

FOUR YEARS AGO – THEIR FIRST ANNIVERSARY

"Do you really have to take pictures wherever we go?" Uriah joked, grinning. "You've also been recording yourself for a pretty long time while we were on our way here."

Louise, who was a few feet away and in front of him, lowered her phone to see him clearer. She gave him a look, the corner of her lips twitching upwards. "Okay, first of all, I wasn't only recording myself. I'm recording you, too! It's a thing now, and it's called vlogging. And secondly, yes, I do have to take pictures."

He started to step towards her, raising his eyebrows. "Why?"

"I'm just . . . capturing moments." She shrugs. "Besides, you looked really pretty back there when you were staring at the sky, and with the snow falling on your face, and—you know what I mean."

When he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and teased, "Oh, I looked pretty?" She nodded in reply as her lips stretched into a full blown smile. "Then I guess I should start taking more pictures of you now, because you look beautiful all the time."

She laughed, pulling herself away from him. "Okay, that was way too cheesy."

He rolled his eyes playfully. "Typical."

She then found her way to his hand, and squeezed it gently. "Come on, let's go. Your surprise is waiting."

He chuckled. "I still can't believe you're surprising me." She scoffed. "But I'm not complaining. I really can't wait."

"Yeah, I bet the fact that I have a surprise for you is a surprise itself."

"True."

She feigned a gasp, and hit his arm lightly. "You wait."

He came to a halt, forcing her to stop walking as well. He noticed another couple that was just a few meters away, and got an idea. Then, he started trotting towards them with Louise trailing behind him, confused.

After a few seconds, he smiled at the couple who looked like they were around the same age as them, and inquired, "Excuse me, can you help take a picture of us?"

The guy glanced at his girl, who merely nodded with a grin, and then back at Uriah. Shrugging, he answered, "Sure."

"Thanks." He gave him his phone, and went a few steps back along with Louise. "Come on."

She stared up at him, clueless as to how they should pose. Her mind was blank. Plus, she didn't want to take the standard picture where they'd just smile and loosely hang their arms around each other's shoulders and waist. She felt like this needed to be special, just like every picture should be.

Uriah took her arms, and placed them around his neck. This way, they were now facing each other. And his circled around her waist, bringing her closer. He grinned, and then said, "Let's see where this takes us, Louise Santiago."

She giggled. "Not back to school, I hope."

He ignored her witty remark, and sighed happily. Everything was perfect at that moment, he thought. He was with the girl he loved, and in a long time, they hadn't been in bad terms. He hoped that it'd stay that way for the longest time possible, because being with her was worth it. She was his happiness, and so was he for hers. "One year, and we're still standing strong."

She didn't reply. She didn't need to. He already knew how she felt, knowing exactly how she sucked at being affectionate sometimes, but it was okay. He understood completely. She only stared back at him with eyes crinkled at the sides and a big smile. From the way they looked at each other and bloomed together with their flaws, achievements, tears, arguments, joy, and love, everyone could tell that these two were a great pair despite their differences. They still loved each other at the end of the day.

Now that was how they looked.

          ❄           ❄           ❄

"So you can stop lying to me now," Louise says, breaking him away from him flashback. "Although . . . I don't get why you did it in the first place."

He glances at her, and then back down at the picture. Will I be able to make her this happy again? "Do you remember everything? Have you gotten your memory back?"

She shakes her head. "No. The only thing I remember is"—she pauses, staring down at the red blanket—"a ring." He instantly knows what she's talking about. "There . . . there was a ring, and I was holding someone's hand."

He nods, suddenly feeling like being put in a box. They both know who it obviously is, and suddenly, he feels awkward with the spotlight on him. This isn't how he expected her to find out. He can't imagine how she's feeling; being in a room with a stranger she has flashbacks of at random times. How she felt when she found out that they were, in fact, in a relationship before.

"And I found the picture just a few hours ago," she adds, watching his reactions. "I was in the attic, looking for answers, because I had doubts about you long ago." She chuckles quietly, and shakes her head to herself. "You're not really a good liar."

He cracks a small smile.

"I talked to Alison about it, too. I thought she would tell me the truth, but no." She scoffs in disbelief. "I wonder what else she lied about, you know? She told me that I was never into long-term relationships. Wow."

"She had a reason," he responds, finding her gaze. He gulps, thinking back to his bad conversation with Alison. "She didn't want you to get hurt."

She tilts her head to the side. "Is that the reason why you lied, too?"

He doesn't like where this is going. He knows she's hurt, and that she's never going to forget about it for a long time. Louise Santiago simply never forgets that easily, and will hold a grudge against someone, but it's about time the truth came out. "You could say that."

"So what is it?"

"What?"

"What are you trying to protect me from?" She arches an eyebrow. "It must be pretty reasonable considering how the two of you are so serious about it—"

"—I'm not serious—"

"—to the point where you lied about having an ex who looks exactly like me. I mean, come on. You didn't expect me to believe that, did you?"

He holds his breath. "No, I know you're smart. Always have been, but it was worth a try. And it seems like you still have it in you."

A flicker of surprise dawns in her eyes. "I don't understand." Her eyebrows knit in frustration. "I can't remember anything about you, but I feel this . . . this weird connection I've never had before with anyone else. And maybe I'm just over-thinking this, but I'm drawn to you. I feel so familiar, like I already know you, and I can't help but—ugh, you're always on my mind, and I don't know what I'm even doing here—"

"Lou—"

"I don't know anything. I don't even know who are my real friends or myself! You don't know how it feels like to wonder how you were like in the past, whether there's something changed in you or still the same person. It's been three years, and no one's telling me enough, because they think it's going to hurt me like some kind of glass." She gives out a shaky breath, meeting his gaze with glistening brown eyes that draws him deeper every time he stares at them. "And I'm sick of it."

He doesn't know why, but his hand instinctively reaches out to her thigh, where the blanket is still on top, as comfort. "I did it to protect you from me." Her mouth folds in confusion, but the look on her face shows that she's intrigued. "We broke up for a reason, Lou. And it wasn't a pretty one. We had a super flawed relationship, and we weren't like the typical couples. I hurt you so much, and I don't want that to happen again."

She blinks in surprise. "Why did we break up?"

"It was around our high school graduation when we did," he explains, and then clears his throat softly. "You were always a planner, and loved being organized."

"Still am," she adds with a small hint of smile.

"So during our relationship, we talked about our future; where we're going to study, our career paths, and all that. But thing is, I didn't tell you the complete truth at the time. It was a coincidence that we were both interested in business so most of the colleges that we applied for were the same. You planned for us—well, hoped—to get into the same college, and . . . we did. You were so happy that we could spend more time with each other in the same school, and so was I.

"But the guilt was eating me up even more back then, because the thing that I was hiding was that . . . my dad already decided what I was going to do after high school. I knew this the whole time you were planning our future, but I couldn't tell you that, because I thought I still had time to change my dad's plans. However, the time came, and it was too late. My dad had already assigned me a position in the company right after I graduated, and you found out.

"And that was our big fight," she whispers in realization.

He nods solemnly. "Yeah. And because we're both prideful and egotistic people, we kept on arguing. I didn't want to admit to my mistake of lying to you. You lost confidence in our future. So I blamed you instead for not trying to understand that it was a plan made by my dad I couldn't refuse, because he really wants this family business to go for generations."

She doesn't reply. She keeps silent, and he merely watches as she thinks her way through this. He prepares for the worst, which is her decision not to associate with him anymore, because she finally knows how much pain he put her through before. And now, she's worried that he's going to do it again.

It's a painful decision, but one Uriah has to accept.

"You still have to grant me a wish," she says suddenly, meeting his gaze.

He inclines his head towards her in a confused manner. He feels the distance between them lessened. "Yeah, and?"

She juts her chin slightly higher, and with confidence, she says, "Kiss me."

He blinks once. Twice. "What?"

"Kiss me," she repeats, except it's slower and more emphasized this time. Her gaze is intense on him, and it's almost hard to resist her.

Almost.

"No," he murmurs. He shakes his head. "I mean, it's not that I don't want to—that's not even the point. The point is I can't. I'm not—"

"I get it. You think you're going to hurt me again, but"—she inches closer, and places a hand on his cheek—"this is probably the only way I can get you of my head."

He closes his eyes, feeling the warmth from her hand. This is wrong. You can't do this, Uriah. "Lou, that doesn't . . . make sense. You're not thinking—"

"Is that because the old Louise used to be logical? She'd always use her head in making decisions, wouldn't she?" she says, moving her hand to the back of his neck.

He opens his eyes to meet hers, and all he sees is her. Her charm, her wit, her beauty. Just like the old Louise, but not completely, because she wouldn't be this impulsive. "She would leave this room, and go back home to think by herself. Probably would think about quitting the internship."

She wraps her fingers around his neck, and brings him closer. "Well, I'm not her anymore."

"Louise," he calls out, his voice soft and breathy.

When they're just a few inches away from each other, she tells him, "Stop talking." He feels her warm breath against his face, and his heart racing again. Pull away. "The new Louise listens to her heart now."

She pulls him in gently before meeting his lips with hers.

It's everything like their first kiss that Louise remembers. A kiss filled with craving, except it isn't rushed this time. She takes her time, trying to trace his lips and movement; possibly anything to trigger something in her head. He takes his time too, recognizing the way she holds his neck and runs her other hand down his chest.

He opens his mouth to take a breath, and she uses this to her advantage, kissing him deeper. He can't help but smile, because this is a typical Louise move.

It's only when Louise is lying on her back, and Uriah has somehow made his way on the bed completely as well, that they realize how far they've gone.

Uriah pulls away, breathing heavily. Louise's eyes flutter open, and stare back at him in surprise and curiosity.

"There," he says, his voice deep and rough from the kiss. "Your wish has been granted." Her eyes widen a little, and she opens her mouth to say something, but no words come out.

He gives her the beginning of a smile, and without thinking, he plants a kiss on her forehead that lasts longer than it should. "Goodnight, Louise," After that, he pushes himself off of the bed, and walks out the door.

Sleeping on the floor isn't a good option anymore. 

- - - - - - - - - -

this chapter is so long. like i feel like i've written it for a novel, not a short story. but hey, just two more chapters left before this comes to an end so might as well embrace it :)