There is another name.
Elina.
Immediately, I realize it's also my fault.
All my muscles tense. "No!" I shout with all my strength. Suddenly, darkness surrounds me. The rain has stopped, but my forehead is still damp.
I reach for the moisture.
No blood. Sweat.
And my surroundings?
Not a cemetery. My bed.
Gasping, I sit up.
"A nightmare. It was just a nightmare," I repeat to myself over and over again, but it can't diminish the memory of the horrifying images that the night painted in my mind.
More than eight months have passed since Julian's burial last autumn. Not once have I dreamed of him.
Why now, all of a sudden?
I turn on the night-light to ground myself, and then it comes back to me.
Elina.
Her name was also on the gravestone, and I know exactly what my subconscious is trying to tell me.
She will go back to Vienna to pursue her dream.
In my mind, I see her. Her sunny smile, her radiant eyes. The way she looks at me and the strength with which she fights for me. I feel the home I find in her presence and my own helplessness to resist it whenever I'm with her.
Desperately, I run my hands through my hair. Because one thing I know for sure: even though I don't really have the right to ever be happy again, there is a longing within me that I cannot ignore.
I can't lose her either.
But won't I lose her anyway, especially when she learns the truth about Julian?
No. She mustn't. The past is at rest. Within me and within everyone else who knows about it.
For months now, no one has talked about it, not even myself. It doesn't make sense to bring up whathappened. It would serve no purpose. Not even for Elina.
Hanna says I am stronger than the ghosts of my past. She is right. What happened must remain locked away because nobody knows the whole truth. Not even myself.
Despite my tiredness, I peel myself out of bed and drag myself to the bathroom. Afterward, I gather everything needed for breakfast, for the rendezvous I have with Elina today, and load it into my car.
An hour early, I stand in front of Elina's cottage and knock softly. Hopefully, she's already awake. The handles of the tote bag press against the scar on my shoulder. The thought of facing Elina soon quickens my breath.
There's no movement inside the cottage, so I knock again.
"Yeees," I suddenly hear someone grumble, followed by shuffling footsteps. The key turns noisily in the lock, and a moment later, an adorable, disheveled Elina stands before me. Her blond hair is tousled, and she yawns with half-open eyes. In her hand, she holds a steaming cup of coffee. "What's up?" she mumbles, still half-dreaming.
"Did someone order breakfast?" I tap the bag under my arm demonstratively and try to read something from her expression. Something that gives me a hint of what she truly feels for me.
With effort, she finally lifts her eyelids. As if she's just realizing who's standing in front of her, she quickly covers her face with her hands. "Noah!" She takes a step toward me and kisses my cheek. As she turns away, I can just catch her uncertain expressionbefore she disappears into the house. "I'll freshen up real quick."
Why? She looks enchanting without any makeup. Much better than with that gunk on her face, to be honest. "To me, you're always beautiful," I call after her.