Faded love 31

Chapter 31 

Pain pulled hard at my chest. 

“How can you be so sure?” 

He turned his head; his gaze settled on my face. 

“Because the wind smells the same as you,” he said softly. 

I fell silent. 

In that moment I knew: 

no matter how much he forgot, 

the string inside him had never snapped. 

Deep night. 

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… 

I stood in the corridor. 

Wind roared in through the window, 

shaking the shadows on the wall. 

: 

A nurse pushed a cart past, whispering, “He’s much calmer today.” 

I nodded. 

My fingers brushed the photo in my pocket- 

his silhouette with the child’s- 

the picture I thought I’d never look at again. 

“You said,” I murmured, 

“the wind was our only language.” 

Wind sifted my hair, 

as if someone breathed at my ear: 

“Then let the wind bring me back.” 

I had thought the nightmare of the sea had ended long ago. 

I was wrong. 

The real storm began the moment I decided to return to Windstop Bay. 

When the boat nudged the dock, the sky was tarnished silver. 

The fog was so thick it swallowed direction; the wind reeked of wet iron. 

An old fisherman tied off the line and handed me a lamp. 

“More dead than living out there. 

Miss Gu, you sure you want to go?” 

I nodded. 

“I’m looking for someone.” 

He sighed and pointed toward a blur of rocks. 

“Old sanatorium beyond the cove. 

Shut down three years ago-someone rents it now. 

If 

your man’s anywhere, it’s there.” 

Wind knifed down my collar, bitter cold. 

The name rotted on the cracked signboard: 

Windstop Bay Rehabilitation Center. 

The corridors were empty. 

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The walls still smelled of antiseptic. 

Every step came back in echoes. 

At the last door, I pushed in. 

The window was half open; the sea’s voice poured in with the wind. 

He sat in a chair in a white patient’s gown. 

Sunlight fell through the broken panes onto his shoulder. 

For an instant he was so quiet he barely seemed human. My legs shook. 

“Shen Zhou.” 

He turned. His gaze was clear-and empty. 

“CEO Gu?” 

My throat tightened. 

Still polite. 

Still that distant gentleness, as if an entire sea lay between us. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“The doctor told me to rest.” 

A pause. “Said I had an accident once.” 

“Do you know who you are?” 

He smiled. 

“Shen Zhou.” 

I studied him. 

“And Rory?” 

He frowned, as if a dull needle pricked a buried memory. 

His hand went to the bandage at his brow. 

“That name… 

I think I’ve heard the wind say it.” 

He repeated it under his breath, tasting a dream: 

“The wind said not to sign.” 

I couldn’t help stepping closer. 

“Whose voice?” 

He looked up. 

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At last, a ripple moved across his eyes. 

“Yours.” 

My heart split open. 

Footsteps rang at the end of the hall. 

I turned quickly. 

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