The world of the Eternal Garden was unlike anything Aiden had imagined. Silver rivers stretched across fields of luminous flowers, and skies shimmered in shades of violet and gold, streaked with drifting stars that seemed close enough to touch. The air smelled faintly of rain and blossoms, carrying an eternal calm that made his mortal heart ache with both wonder and sorrow.
Lyra moved gracefully across the field, her feet barely brushing the glowing ground. Her hair shimmered like liquid moonlight, and every movement she made seemed as if the world bent around her.
Aiden followed silently, keeping his distance.
He had crossed worlds to see her again, but now the cruel truth of the spirit realm pressed against him: she could not remember him.
When she paused to gaze at the crystal tree, her violet eyes were clear and curious — but empty of the warmth that had once recognized him.
"You're here," she said softly, turning. "But… I don't know why I feel… something?"
Aiden swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. Something? That's all you feel?
"Yes," he whispered to himself. "Something… like familiarity. But not… me."
He realized then how delicate this love had become — a thread stretched across worlds, shining, but invisible to the one he adored.
---
Days passed, though time felt different here. Without sunrises or seasons, each "day" was measured in the soft hum of the rivers and the faint glow of the flowers.
Aiden learned quickly that spirit-born like Lyra were bound to the Eternal Garden — they could not leave, nor could they retain memories from mortal life. Their laughter, their sorrow, their love from another world, faded like mist under the first morning sun.
And so, every day he watched her.
Sometimes she would hum a melody that reminded him of the lake — and in those moments, his chest ached so much he thought it would break. He wanted to tell her, to remind her, to call her Lyra… but even the thought of speaking risked shattering the fragile peace of this world.
He became a shadow, following silently, helping her in small ways. Picking flowers to brighten her path, keeping the rivers flowing clear, guiding her away from unseen dangers.
He was always there, and she began to notice the stranger who seemed to move like light itself.
"Why are you always here?" she asked one evening, violet eyes staring into his. "You don't belong to this place… but you linger anyway."
He smiled faintly, voice barely above a whisper. "I… admire the garden."
Lyra tilted her head, studying him. "And yet, there's… something else. Something I feel but can't name."
Aiden wanted to tell her, It's me. I am the one you once loved.
But he couldn't. To speak the truth would be to risk losing her forever.
So he nodded silently, hiding the truth in the ache of his chest.
---
Weeks turned into months.
And as the flowers of the Eternal Garden bloomed and faded, so too did Aiden.
Every heartbeat in this world required effort — a piece of his mortal essence burned with each passing moment. His fingers grew cold, his reflection in the rivers faint. Yet, he persisted. Because love — even unrecognized — was a kind of immortality.
One night, the silver rivers glowed brighter than ever, and Lyra approached the crystal tree. She hummed a song — soft, lilting, filled with longing for something unnamed.
Aiden watched, knowing that every note she sang was a reminder of everything he could never tell her.
Her hand brushed the petals of the flowers, and the petals shimmered in response. And then she turned and spoke, "I wish… I could remember. Something from another life… something… or someone."
He stepped closer, risking the faintest hint of his presence. "You will remember… someday," he whispered, though he knew it was a lie.
Lyra looked at him with gentle curiosity. "Will I?"
He smiled, even as the light of his mortal soul began to fade. "Maybe… in the quiet places of your heart."
---
Time became a blur. Seasons did not exist here, but Aiden counted them in the moments she smiled unknowingly at him, in the gentle hum of her voice, in the soft glow of the flowers he had touched.
One evening, she turned to him again. "I feel… someone is here. Always. But I can't remember why it matters."
He knelt slightly, letting his shadow touch the ground at her feet. "It matters… because I love you."
Her eyes widened slightly, and for the briefest instant, recognition sparked — like a memory half-forgotten, fleeting as a sigh.
But even as it flickered, it faded again.
Aiden's knees hit the glowing soil. He smiled through the pain. "Then I will love you forever… quietly, endlessly. Even if you cannot know me."
And as the stars of this eternal world shimmered above, he felt his final mortal heartbeat slip away.
His hands became transparent, his voice a whisper, his eyes reflecting only the light of the moonlit garden.
Yet, he remained.
A shadow of himself, lingering at her side, watching, loving.
Even if she never remembered.
Even if he never returned.
Because some love doesn't bloom to be returned.
It blooms… simply to exist.
And so, Aiden became the eternal watcher of Lyra — the Bloom That Never Returned.