Chapter 687

Chapter 687:
“Sounds good to me,” she said quickly, trying to steady the tremor in her voice. “Tell me. What names do you have in mind?”
They had once painted a future in whispers—one with a son and a daughter. She realized Cole must be hoping that she was carrying twins now.
“For a boy… Felix. For a girl… Beatrice,” he answered, each name spoken like a cherished secret. He’d racked his mind to make a long list of suitable names before finally settling on these two. After everything he’d survived, after every shadow that had passed over him, he wanted his children untouched by grief, carrying only light. His effort in choosing names only suggested a fraction of his love for his future children.
Elliana threaded her fingers through his, her touch soft but sure. “They’re perfect,” she whispered. “They hold everything we hope for.”
Silence settled over them again, this time gentler—like a lullaby neither of them knew the words to. So, they held each other instead, their bodies pressed close, the hush around them fragile as spun glass.
After a long, aching pause, Elliana stirred. Her voice was little more than a breath. “Darling, it’s time for the injection. We can’t wait. Not anymore. Delaying it further could reduce its effectiveness.”
Cole nodded without saying a word. But his eyes—oh, his eyes—told the truth she already knew. He didn’t want this. Neither of them did, not when the risk of memory loss was involved. Yet, there was no other option but to proceed with the final injection. Whatever lay ahead, they would have to confront it.
Cole rose without a word, his movements slow and deliberate. He walked to the bed and lay down, eyes fixed on the ceiling—calm, clear, and distant, as if already bracing for the unknown.
Elliana moved to the door and opened it. Ruben and Jarrett stepped in quietly, their expressions drawn. The weight of the possible outcome pressed down on them all. This injection wasn’t just a medical procedure—it was a reset. And with it came the terrifying possibility that Cole’s memories, his very perception, could be wiped clean.
A person was more than skin and bones. A soul was shaped by a thousand quiet things—by the warmth of old stories, by temperaments forged through time, by laughter shared over dinner tables, and the scars earned along the way. The thought of a Cole who didn’t remember them or their history hit harder than either Ruben or Jarrett could have prepared for. Cole, who’d lived twenty-seven years beneath their roof, unmistakably their pride and joy, might vanish, leaving behind a stranger. They wanted to say something. Anything. But words caught in their throats, as if saying them aloud would make the fear real.
Cole gave them a faint, crooked smile—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Grandpa. Dad,” he said quietly, “if the version of me who wakes up is someone else, someone you don’t recognize, please don’t hate him.”
Ruben stepped forward quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t talk like that, Cole. Elliana said it’s only the worst-case scenario. We still have hope.” His voice was firm, but the edge of worry betrayed him. “You’ve always been strong. Nothing has ever beaten you—not even close. This won’t either. I believe in you.”
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Jarrett chimed in, his voice steady but thick with emotion, “Ruben is right. No matter what happens, you’re still my son, Ruben’s grandson, and Elliana’s husband. We’ll be here, waiting for you to come back to us.”
The warmth in their words settled over Cole like a blanket, chasing away the chill creeping into his thoughts. His chest eased. A small, genuine smile broke through. He closed his eyes, letting their voices linger in his mind, wrapping around him like the memory of home.
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