?Chapter 1196:


    A few quiet words to the café staff, and momentster, soft guitar chords drifted through the air.


    Sharon remembered Ste mentioning it was their special song.


    As the familiar melody filled the space, Ste’s fingers began tapping unconsciously against the table. Her gaze unfocused, her movements slowing.


    “This song…” she whispered. “It makes me feel… a little sad.”


    Sharon leaned forward instantly. “Does it remind you of something?”


    Ste’s eyes fluttered closed as she tried to concentrate. She rubbed her temples. A flicker of confusion crossed her face—then vanished. Finally, she exhaled softly.


    “No,” she said. “It just feels mncholic, that’s all. Probably just the tune.”


    Then she looked up with a faint smile. “Sharon, when did you start liking music like this?”


    She remembered Sharon as someone with a tomboyish streak, always preferring pop-rock.


    Sharon’s heart clenched.


    No memory. Not even a trace.


    She tried to keep her tone light as she replied, but the disappointment in her chest was almost unbearable.


    Two attempts. Two failures.


    After leaving the café, Sharon suggested a detour to a nearby art gallery. A new tech-art exhibition had just opened—one featuring interactive instations inspired byputational design and digital simtions.


    The kind of research that had once connected Ste and William so deeply.


    Maybe—just maybe—it would awaken something.


    Inside the dimly lit gallery, countless points of light swirled and collided in the air, weaving into mesmerizing, ever-shifting patterns. The space pulsed with quiet energy—alive, like a digital dream.


    Ste stood before one of therger projections, motionless. Her eyes followed the glimmering data streams as if trying to decipher them.


    “This…” she whispered, reaching out slightly. “I feel like I’ve worked on something like this before…”


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    Her brow furrowed as she tried to catch fleeting fragments in her mind.


    Sharon held her breath, her heart pounding.


    Please… remember him.


    But after a few long seconds, Ste blinked and smiled faintly. “I can’t recall. Maybe I saw simr visuals in a paper once. Art is getting so abstract these days.”


    The fragile spark flickered—and died.


    For the rest of the exhibition, Ste’s expression remained serene, unaffected. They left less than forty minutester. Sharon trailed behind her, running a hand through her hair in frustration.


    Two attempts. Two dead ends.


    What else could she do?


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