The man stepped into the room, his features gradually becoming clearer as he moved closer. His eyes were filled with a mixture of relief and sorrow, and his presence seemed to anchor her in the moment. She felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if she had known him for a lifetime, yet her mind remained a blank slate.


“Who are you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.


He paused, his gaze softening. “I’m someone who has been waiting for you,” he replied. “Do you remember anything at all?”


She shook her head, frustration bubbling up inside her. “No, I can’t remember anything. It’s like my mind is a locked room, and I don’t have the key.”


He sighed and took her hand gently. “Let’s start with what we do know. My name is Daniel. This place… it used to be our home.”


“Our home?” she echoed, looking around the room with new eyes. The shadows seemed less menacing now, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow on the walls. “Why can’t I remember?”


Daniel led her to a small, dusty sofa and they sat down. “You had an accident,” he explained. “A fall that caused a severe head injury. The doctors said it might take time for your memories to return, if they ever do.”


She felt a pang of sadness at his words. “And these photographs?” she asked, pointing to the box she had found.


“They’re from our life together,” Daniel said softly. “Moments we’ve shared, places we’ve been. I hoped they might help you remember.”


She picked up a photograph, studying the faces that smiled back at her. There was a younger version of herself, laughing with Daniel in a sunlit garden. “I wish I could remember,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes.


Daniel squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. We’ll make new memories, and maybe, just maybe, the old ones will come back.”


As they sat together, the soft melody from the gramophone began to play again, filling the room with its haunting beauty. She closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her, and for the first time since she woke up in this strange place, she felt a glimmer of hope.


I