CHAPTER FIVE HUNDRED AND FORTY TWO – FIELD OF MEMORIES

As they set up the easels together, Jasmine felt a small spark of hope ignite in her chest. It wasn't much, but it was a start. Over the next few weeks, Jasmine and Marco fell into a new routine. They painted together most mornings, sometimes in silence, sometimes sharing stories of their past—or in Marco's case, asking questions about the life he couldn't remember. Zaya still visited occasionally, but less frequently, and always with a quick glance at Jasmine for permission. The tension between the two women eased somewhat, though Jasmine still felt a twinge of unease whenever Zaya was around. One evening, as they cleaned up after dinner, Marco suddenly stopped, a plate halfway to the cupboard. "Jasmine," he said, his voice strained. "I... I remember something." Jasmine's heart leapt. "What is it?" Marco closed his eyes, concentrating. "We were in New Mexico. You were... crying. I was angry. There was a woman named Lila." The plate slipped from Jasmine's hands, shattering on the floor