The Bond Between Us (Anastasia and Herman) novel Chapter 738

After Herman's accident, Anastasia found herself leaning heavily on the bottle. No matter where she went, a bottle of whiskey was her constant companion, offering solace with each painful sip.

What she didn’t realize was that Rowan had lingered in Springfield too, quietly shadowing her every step. Meanwhile, Monica, worried sick about Anastasia, took a flight to Springfield, hoping to coax her back to Riverdale.

The evening they reunited, Monica and Anastasia hit the town, drowning their sorrows in the neon-lit streets of Springfield. Anastasia poured her heart out, tears streaming freely, her usual poise nowhere in sight.

“Let it all out, Ana,” Monica whispered, “Cry until there’s nothing left. Only then can you start to heal.”

Tipsy and with unsteady hands, Anastasia peered through a haze of tears. “Monica, my heart is shattered. I can’t find him. The rescue teams have given up. They say the last three missing were probably swept away by the mudslides, lost in the river—no hope left.” Her voice broke as she continued, “Why didn’t I just say yes and come with him that day? I should have been here with him.”

“Nobody can predict these kinds of disasters,” Monica reassured her, squeezing her hand. “Your mom begged me to bring you back. You can’t stay here forever, Ana. What about the kids and the company?”

Anastasia, her voice laden with sorrow, replied, “If it weren’t for the kids and my mom, I don’t know how I’d go on. Every day without him is agony. I rely on pills and whiskey just to catch a few hours of sleep. Every night, I dream of him. I ask him when he’s coming back. Doesn’t he want me and the baby anymore?”

Monica wrapped her arms around Anastasia. “This will pass, Ana. Get some rest tonight. For all we know, Herman might come back to you.”

Monica continued to console her until Anastasia drifted off, her exhaustion finally taking over.

Back at the hotel, Monica watched over Anastasia as she murmured Herman's name in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips, feeling the weight of her friend’s heartache.

That night, Anastasia dreamed of Herman again. It was a tender and unforgettable dream, one she wished she could stay in forever.

Meanwhile, over in Willowbrook, Herman had his own dreams. He saw a scene from years ago at Neon Dreams. The woman's face was a mystery, shrouded as if behind a veil, no matter how hard he tried to see. Yet her voice, sweet and captivating, stirred something deep within him. It wasn't Sandy's voice; he was sure of that.

The following morning, Herman awoke with a start. Despite having been in Willowbrook for a while, his memory remained a blank slate. Everything felt unfamiliar.

“Son, breakfast is ready!” called a voice from downstairs. A man approaching sixty, with a warm smile, came up to greet him. This was Nicholas.

“I’m done,” Herman declared after barely touching his food. “I’m going out for a walk.”

He was determined to search for his lost memories.

Just as he was about to step out, Sandy appeared. “George, heading out?”

Herman had rarely left the house in over a month, and each time, Sandy had been by his side.

Sandy would take him to places she claimed held memories, recounting stories he couldn’t place.

Of course, they were all Sandy’s fabrications.

“I’d like to go alone,” Herman said firmly, driven to discover the identity of the woman in his dreams.