Girl with ocean eyes

Her clothes were simple-a loose cotton blouse, worn from years of washing, and a long wrap skirt tied at the hip. Not a speck of makeup. No jewelry. No screen in her hand. She didn't carry distraction, only presence.

Just her. Honest. Solid.

He stared longer than he meant to. Her face was peaceful but unreadable, like a painting you couldn't stop trying to understand. She didn't move or fidget. She just was.

Her expression didn't change. She didn't blush. Didn't smile. Just met his gaze like she was trying to understand what he was and why he was here.

"Water?" he rasped.

She stood immediately, disappearing for a moment, then returned with a clay cup. She held it to his lips and tilted it carefully. Her fingers brushed his jaw-warm, steady.

The water hit his throat like heaven. It was cool and sweet, and he hadn't realized how desperately he needed it.

"You were on the beach," she said. "My grandparents found you."

His voice cracked. "Where... am I?"

"Our island," she replied. "You're safe."

He tried to sit up. Pain lit up his ribs like fire. His body protested every movement. "Island," he echoed, confused.

She nodded. "We don't get visitors like you."

"Like me?" he whispered.

"You came from the sky."

The words were matter-of-fact, but the way she said them made his skin prickle. He could see that she didn't mean it like a joke. She meant it exactly as it sounded.

"What's your name?" she asked.

He hesitated. Blinked. The question echoed in his skull like an alarm. He searched, reached inward, grasped for something-anything.

Nothing.

"I don't... I don't know," he said.

She didn't gasp. Didn't panic. Just blinked, like the answer had confirmed something she already suspected. She glanced toward the window for a moment, then back at him.

"I'm Kaia," she said. "Kaia Solen."

Kaia.

The name floated through his mind like something from a dream. It felt like water, like wind. Familiar in a way that made no sense.

She stood then, as if to leave.

He panicked, not sure why. "Wait."

She looked back.

"If I don't know who I am," he said slowly, "what do I call myself?"

Kaia tilted her head. Looked at him closely-those rich, deep brown eyes thoughtful, unreadable. There was intelligence in them. Caution. And something softer, just beneath the surface.

"You came from fire," she said. "Fell out of the sky. You survived."

A beat passed. A moment heavy with meaning.

"You can be Ash."

He breathed in the word. It settled inside him like something familiar. A spark of truth. A name born from smoke and survival.

"Ash," he repeated. "Okay."

She nodded once, then turned and walked out, leaving the door half-open. Her bare feet made no sound on the wooden floor.

And for the first time since he woke up, he wanted to remember. Not who he was.

Just... her.

He lay there long after she left, listening to the birds outside, to the faint murmur of a breeze and voices further off. The pain in his body was dull now, eclipsed by something else. A pull.

Not toward memory.

Toward her.

He looked around the room again. The walls were made of woven bamboo and driftwood, carefully reinforced. Shelves lined with clay pots, baskets of herbs, and bundles of dried plants. Everything smelled of earth and warmth. This was not a hospital. It was a home.

Through the window, he could see green hills in the distance and the edge of a dirt path winding through trees. Somewhere not far, chickens clucked. The rhythm of the place was slow, peaceful.

And yet he felt... awake.

Ash. The name echoed in his chest like a soft drumbeat.

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