I didn't remember my life, but my body remembered her.

SEBASTIAN

The first thing I noticed after waking up was how often my gaze drifted to her.

Not because I was meant to, but because something inside me did it on its own, instinctive, like muscle memory without the memory.

I would be lying if I said it didn't feel strange that she was the only person I could remember. Stranger still was how, even as I struggled to make sense of everything else, I kept being drawn back to her. Part of me whispered that something about this wasn't right, yet another part insisted it was. Both feelings existed at once, tangled and impossible to separate.

Did that even make sense?

I noticed the little things, the way she grew quiet whenever I was near, how her shoulders tensed like she was bracing herself, how her breath hitched when our hands almost touched. And when I asked if I could feed her, the way she froze told me everything I needed to know.

Not about the food.

But about us.

Because what kind of wife tensed like that around her own husband?

She let out a breathless laugh and looked away, her cheeks warming.

I nodded, a faint smile tugging at my lips. Even though a part of me sensed there was more she wasn't saying, I still found myself enjoying this, teasing her, watching the way she reacted so honestly, so unguarded. It amused me more than it probably should have.

"No response," I murmured, leaning closer, "means I'm feeding you."

"You... you don't have to." She protested weakly, waving her hand as if that would stop me.

"Too late."

I took the fork from her fingers, twirled a neat portion of pasta, and lifted it toward her. She hesitated, an awkward smile curving her lips as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Then, finally, she leaned in and accepted the bite.

"Good girl." I said lightly.

She laughed nervously, and I was already rolling another portion. "Open your mouth."

Still laughing, she obeyed, chewing slowly before lowering her gaze again, that shy smile creeping back onto her face.

I set the fork aside and reached for the bottle of Coke. Spotting a mug on the table, I poured a generous amount and brought it to her lips.

She looked up at me then-and I caught the way her eyes shimmered, tears threatening but unshed. She laughed again, as if to hide it, lifting her chin to take a sip.

"Wow..." The word slipped out before I could stop it as I watched her turn her face away, blinking too fast, trying and failing to hide the tears pooling in her eyes. "Did I seriously unlock tears with pasta?"

She laughed again, sniffing softly. "The pasta just tastes really good."

"Are you sure it's not because I'm feeding you?" I teased, watching the way her smile slowly returned. I had to admit, I liked seeing it there. A lot.

"I want the grilled chicken." She said, pointing at it.

"Alright." I speared a slice with the fork and held it up to her. "Here."

She leaned in and ate it eagerly, like she'd been waiting for permission.

I chuckled. "See? All it takes is a good-looking feeder like me to bring your appetite back."

She laughed, shaking her head. "You're being so full of yourself right now."

I grinned. "Just admit it."

She only smiled and kept eating.

"You know..." I tapped the fork lightly against the container, watching her instead of the food. "You have a very expressive face. I can practically read every emotion you're feeling."

She lifted a hand to her cheek, startled. "Really?"

Before she could think better of it, I reached out and gently pinched her cheek. "You're not doing a great job hiding them."

She laughed and leaned back into her seat, still smiling. The room grew quiet after that, the kind of silence that wasn't uncomfortable-just filled. I watched her as she absentmindedly rubbed her palms against her dress, fidgeting, stealing glances everywhere except at me.

Was she really that shy?

When our eyes finally met, she flinched slightly, as if she was still adjusting to the idea of me being this close.

"Why are you staring at me?" She asked with a nervous laugh.

I looked away, fixing my gaze on the bed, the pale wall beyond it. "I'm curious." I said after a moment. "About how we met. How we got married."

When I glanced back at her, the smile had already faded from her face. Her eyes dropped to her hands. I noticed then how often that happened. How the past seemed to dim her every time it came up.

I tapped my fingers against my thigh, waiting.

She opened her mouth, closed it. Tried again. No words came. Whatever she wanted to say, it weighed on her.

What was it that she found so hard to voice?

"Actually," she finally whispered. "I-"

"The past isn't important." I interrupted, the words leaving me faster than thought. A strange unease had settled in my chest and I knew that I wouldn't like whatever came next. "What matters is now. This moment. The memories we'll make from here on out."

Her head lifted.

And just like that, her face brightened like I'd handed her something she hadn't known she was hoping for.

***

We ate, and we talked, and somewhere along the way the hours slipped through my fingers without me noticing. I filled the room with silly jokes, half of them not even that funny, but she laughed anyway, adding murmured comments under her breath that made me want to say even more ridiculous things just to hear them again.

I was careful not to bring up the past, no matter how much it tugged at my curiosity. I'd seen how her mood shifted every time it surfaced. Tonight, I wanted her light like this-smiling, relaxed, here.

Before I knew it, night settled quietly outside the window.

I'd already taken a shower and was smoothing the bedsheet when the bathroom door opened. Selene stepped out, wearing the shirt I'd given her earlier. Vincent had brought some of my things in the afternoon, and it occurred to me then that she hadn't brought any of her own.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling shyly.

The shirt swallowed her frame, the sleeves hanging a little too long, the hem brushing her thighs.

She looked... cute. Disarmingly so.

A smile curved on my lips before I could stop it.

"Looks good on you."

She smiled as she always did, brushing her hair back as she stood there, hesitating, as if unsure what her next move should be.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her more closely than I probably should have. She suddenly found the sleeves of my shirt fascinating, her fingers worrying at the fabric as she avoided my gaze. There was an awkwardness between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it felt... gentle. Familiar in a way I couldn't explain.

My eyes drifted down her legs, stopping where the hem of my shirt rested against her thighs. I looked away quickly, shutting down the dangerous turn my thoughts were beginning to take.

"Are you planning to stand there all night?" I asked, lying back and pulling the blanket over myself.

"I..." She bit her lower lip, rubbing the back of her neck, clearly flustered.

"Turn off the light and come here."

She moved toward the switch, slowly, too slowly. Like she was buying time. I wondered what she was thinking, what made her hesitate this much around me.

The light went out, plunging the room into darkness. A moment later, I heard her careful footsteps approaching the bed. She climbed in at last, stiff and uncertain.

I lifted the blanket and draped it over her.

We lay facing each other, our faces only inches apart, the quiet between us charged and delicate. I smiled, unable to stop myself, savoring the closeness.

"You're quiet." I murmured, my gaze never leaving her face.

"That's because I'm trying to sleep." She replied softly, closing her eyes.

"Lucky you." I lowered my voice, letting the words linger. "I'm wide awake. Hard to sleep when your wife is this beautiful."

Her eyes fluttered open again, and she looked at me before smiling faintly. "You're such a tease."

"I'm not lying." A smirk curved my lips. "I might actually fall asleep if you do this." I gestured to my head, half-expecting her to laugh me off.

She did look at me like I was being ridiculous, and I was already about to admit I was joking when her hand reached out. Warm fingers slipped into my hair, caressing gently.

I stilled.

My heart began to pound so loudly I was sure she could hear it. At first, I had told myself to be careful, to watch her, not trust too easily. Something about our situation felt uncertain. That had been my resolve.

But with her hand in my hair, that resolve wavered.

In its place came something else. A need. To know her. To understand her. To hold her closer and never let go.

I wanted to learn what made her happy.

I wanted to be the reason she smiled.

I lifted my hand and covered hers, resting it against my head. I felt her tense, just slightly, but I didn't pull away. Instead, I shifted closer, closing the distance between us. Her breath brushed my face, and her eyes flickered briefly to my lips.

"Selene." I whispered.

She drew her gaze back to mine, her breath hitching as our eyes met.

"I might not remember our past." I said quietly, my thumb brushing over her knuckles as if the motion came from instinct alone. My eyes never left her face. "But I know this..."

I paused, steadying myself. "Right now, I want you here."

Her fingers trembled beneath mine.

"Let's start again." I continued, the words soft but certain. A faint smile curved my lips.

"You and me."

SELENE

I had promised myself I would tell Sebastian the truth today.

But when the moment came, I couldn't bring myself to do it-not after everything we had shared yesterday. Not after the laughter, the quiet conversations, the meal we'd eaten together. Not after lying beside him, breathing the same air. Not after the words he'd whispered to me in the dark.

What was I supposed to do after that?

The question weighed heavily on my chest, leaving me torn between guilt and longing. I knew what the right thing was. I had always known. And yet, the selfish part of me, the part that wanted this fragile peace to last just a little longer won.

So I stayed silent.

And I kept the truth to myself.

There was no point telling him. That was the excuse I clung to, the one I repeated to myself until it dulled the edge of guilt pressing against my chest. The truth would only confuse him. At least, that's what I told myself.

"What are you thinking about?" A raspy voice murmured beside me.

I turned my head and found Sebastian already awake. He lay on his side, facing me, one arm bent beneath his head, his knuckles propping his cheek as he watched me with quiet attentiveness.

I blinked, still not fully accustomed to waking up this close to him. "Nothing." I replied, pushing myself upright. "I should go-"

My words dissolved into a sharp breath as he reached out, his hand circling my waist and gently but firmly pulling me back. The movement stopped me in place, my pulse skidding as I realized he had no intention of letting me slip away so easily.

He leaned closer, his grip loosening though his hand remained firm at my waist.

"Disappearing again?" He murmured, his voice low, almost lazy.

I shook my head quickly. "I just wanted to take a shower."

"Hm." The sound vibrated against my skin as his thumb began tracing slow, absent circles at my side. "And you're planning to get up without doing it?"

I tilted my head, genuinely confused. "Doing what?"

His lips curved into a faint pout.

I frowned, studying his face, trying to decipher what he meant, only to realize he was enjoying my confusion far too much.

"I'm running low on energy." He murmured, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "I need a recharge."

Recharge?

"Are you hungry?" The question slipped out before I could think.

"Yes." His answer came easily, his thumb still tracing idle circles along my side, sending an unfamiliar flutter through my stomach. His touch was doing things to me-quiet, unsettling things I wasn't prepared for.

Then he leaned closer, close enough that I felt his breath brush my cheek.

"But not for food."

His voice dropped. "There's something else I'm craving."

Oh.

Heat rushed to my face as understanding dawned on me.

Right.

I definitely knew what he meant.

I swallowed and tried to look away, but he caught my chin with a single finger, tilting my face up, as though giving me time to pull back if I wanted to. I didn't. My lips parted on a shaky breath as our noses brushed, his warmth so close it stole the air from my lungs. His lips hovered there, a heartbeat away.

Sebastian was about to kiss me. I felt it in the charged stillness between us, in the way the world seemed to narrow until there was nothing but that fragile distance. One small movement, just one, and our lips would meet.

Did I want this? Of course I did.

But my heart wasn't racing with anticipation. It was pounding with fear.

What if he remembered the kiss on the couch? What if, in this moment, another woman's name slipped from his lips? The thought tightened my chest, yet it didn't stop the ache of wanting him. I wanted his kiss. I wanted to know how it felt-again, or maybe for the first time.

His lips were just about to touch mine when the door swung open.

I flinched like a teenager caught doing something forbidden. We both snapped our heads toward the doorway, and there stood the Kingsley family, frozen in place, mouths hanging open. That was when reality crashed down on me. Sebastian was half over me, close enough that there was no mistaking what they'd walked in on.

I scrambled away and sat up, my face burning. Sebastian rolled off to the other side of the bed, muttering something under his breath that I couldn't quite catch.

"Don't you guys know how to knock?" He snapped, irritation sharp in his voice as he dragged a hand through his hair.

"Sorry." Mr. Kingsley said, waving a dismissive hand at Sebastian before turning to June. "Why didn't you knock before coming in?"

"I didn't know they would be..." Nora gestured awkwardly with her hands, trailing off.

I stared at my lap, my heart still racing for reasons I wasn't sure I wanted to untangle just yet.

"So... how are you feeling, Sebastian?" Mrs. Kingsley cut in quickly, her voice a little too bright as she crossed the room, a nylon bag of takeaways rustling in her hand.

Sebastian merely shrugged as he pushed himself upright on the couch, his expression unreadable, as though nothing unusual had just happened.

I slipped off the bed, suddenly unsure of where to place myself, and rubbed at my elbow in a nervous, absent motion.

Mrs. Kingsley's sharp voice cut through the room. "What are you doing just standing there? Don't you know you're supposed to arrange this?" She pointed pointedly at the takeaways as she set them down on the table.

"I'm sorry." I murmured, hurrying forward to do as told.

I had barely reached for the containers when a firm hand closed around my wrist, stopping me cold. I looked up, startled, straight into Sebastian's eyes.

"What are you trying to do?" His voice came out low and tight, edged with something that sounded dangerously close to anger.

I turned instinctively toward my mother-in-law. Her mouth hung open, shock written plainly across her face, as the room fell into a stunned, uneasy silence.

Mrs. Kingsley was the first to recover.

"Sebastian," she said carefully, the smile she forced into place failing to reach her eyes. "I was only asking Selene to help. There's no need for that tone."

His grip on my wrist didn't loosen.

"She doesn't work for you." He replied flatly.

A heavy silence settled over the room.

"I'm your mother," Mrs. Kingsley said at last, her composure stiffening. "And she's your wife. Arranging food isn't beneath her."

Sebastian's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking beneath his skin.

"And ordering her around isn't your place."

His mother scoffed. "When did I order her?" She asked, turning to the others as though searching for support.

No one spoke.

Sebastian turned to me then. His hand finally released my wrist, but the warmth of his touch lingered. "Go sit," he said gently. "I'll arrange it."

Without waiting for a response, he moved to the table and began unpacking the dishes himself.

He had told me to sit, yet I remained rooted where I stood. I couldn't quite believe what I was seeing. I was used to the sharp words, the casual authority in my mother-in-law's voice, the way my sister-in-law echoed it. I had learned to accept it, to endure it.

But this... this version of Sebastian, standing between me and them without hesitation sent a warmth spreading through my chest. I tried to hide my smile, but it slipped out anyway, betraying me completely.

With Sebastian openly defying his mother, the atmosphere in the ward shifted. The air grew strained. I noticed how careful they became, how their words softened, how their confidence faltered.

They spoke of his health. Of the family business. Of things that felt suddenly trivial.

And yet, throughout it all, Sebastian never once let me out of his sight.

***

After days in the hospital, Sebastian was finally discharged. Relief should have been the loudest thing in my chest. Instead, it was dread.

To keep my lies intact, I called Vincent and asked him to bring Sebastian's belongings to the house. Clothes, shoes, the little things that made it look as though he truly lived there. Together, we rearranged the space, added items that had never belonged, filled empty corners with borrowed memories until the house resembled a matrimonial home.

Too convincing, perhaps.

As I stood there, surveying our handiwork, a question gnawed at me. Was I going too far? Was this still protection... or outright deception?

The question lingered as Sebastian stepped inside.

He paused just beyond the doorway, his gaze drifting slowly around the house, taking in every detail as though he were searching for something he couldn't name.

"Does it look familiar?" I asked, watching him carefully.

"No." He replied.

His eyes had settled on the wedding portrait hanging in the living room. It hadn't been there before. I had made sure of that. A married couple was supposed to have their wedding photo on display. At least, that was what I'd told myself when I hung it there.

"Would you like anything?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Water." He said, finally looking away from the portrait.

"Okay."

I walked to the fridge, retrieved a bottle of water, and turned back-

He was gone.

A sudden unease crept up my spine. I hurried into the living room and froze.

Sebastian stood between the couch and the table, an envelope clutched in his hand.

My heart stopped.

The divorce papers.

I had forgotten them. Forgotten to hide them. Forgotten to erase the one thing that could destroy everything I'd built.

"No!" I shouted, rushing toward him.

But I was already too late.

Sebastian had opened the envelope.

I had lied so many times that I no longer knew where the truth ended and the deception began.

SELENE

I rushed forward just as Sebastian opened the envelope, and in that instant I understood that some lies don't need words to destroy you.

I tore the envelope and the papers from his hands with such force that the paper ripped. If there was one thing I was desperate to protect in that moment, it was my lies. I shoved the files behind my back, my breaths coming fast and uneven.

Sebastian stared at me, visibly stunned.

I didn't know if that look was because of how violently I had snatched the papers from him, or because he had already seen what was inside.

Had he seen it?

Had he read it?

I'd grabbed them almost immediately, before he could properly look. That had to count for something. Maybe he hadn't seen anything. Maybe I was still safe.

Please, I prayed silently.

Please let him tell me he didn't see it.

"S-Sebastian..." I called, my voice catching as I searched desperately for words that refused to come.

His lips curved, not quite a smile, not quite a frown. "Were you planning to tell me... or was I never supposed to find it?"

My heart slammed violently against my ribs. I staggered back a step, my breath hitching. "Sebastian... I-"

The words dissolved in my throat. Tears burned behind my eyes, blurring my vision. Who was I to think this fragile peace could last? Who was I to hope that-

I exhaled shakily and dropped my gaze. "This is..."

"What was that?" He interrupted.

I looked up, startled. "What?"

"The papers." He said evenly. "The files you're hiding behind you. What are they?"

I swallowed hard, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. "You... didn't see them?"

"With how fast you ripped them out of my hands," he replied, his voice calm but sharp around the edges, "there was no chance I could've."

A breath of relief slipped out of me before I could stop it.

He hadn't seen it yet.

"They're..." My throat closed around the word. I swallowed, forcing air back into my lungs as my mind scrambled for something that could pass for the truth. "They're confidential documents. You aren't meant to see them yet."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Sebastian didn't answer right away. His gaze stayed on me, but the warmth I was getting used to seeing there had dimmed. His brows drew together, not in anger, but in quiet thought.

Slowly, he tilted his head, like he was trying to look at me from a different angle.

"Yet?" He echoed softly, and his eyes flicked briefly to the torn edge of the paper clenched behind my back, then returned to my face.

He didn't reach for it.

But the way he sighed told me he didn't believe me. Not completely.

"They're artwork papers." I said, forcing the words out before my courage could fail me. I leaned into the lie, dressing it up carefully. "My team and I are still working on them. They're... confidential." I swallowed, then added softly. "I'm sorry for grabbing them like that."

For a moment, he only watched me.

Then something in him eased. His shoulders relaxed, the tension draining away as he nodded once, as if he had decided to accept my explanation-not because it was convincing, but because he chose to.

"Alright."

He looked around the house again. "So..." he said, turning back to me, "where is our room?"

A smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. Behind my back, my fingers tightened around the papers, crumpling them slightly.

"Let me show you." I said, and stepped forward, leading him deeper into the lie I had built for us both.

When we reached the bedroom, Sebastian stopped at the doorway.

He didn't step in immediately. He just stood there, taking it all in, his gaze moving slowly, as though the room were speaking to him in a language he almost understood.

We had never shared a bedroom before. Not really. He had his, one he barely used, and I had mine. But after the lie I'd sold him, after I'd painted a picture of love and closeness, it would have been strange to keep up that distance. So I'd moved his things into my room and turned it into ours.

Sebastian finally stepped inside.

His fingers brushed the nightstand, then the edge of the bed. He picked up the pillow, squeezed it once, as if testing something familiar hidden beneath the fabric. None of it looked deliberate. It felt instinctive like muscle memory reaching for a past his mind refused to give him.

Then he turned to me and smiled.

Relief washed over me so suddenly I almost swayed. That smile felt like a pardon I hadn't earned.

"Come." He said, lifting a hand toward me.

"What is it?" I asked, moving closer anyway.

He took my hands gently, as if afraid they might disappear if he held them too tightly.

"It feels nice to be home." He said softly, his smile deepening.

Home.

The word twisted something in my chest.

Still, I smiled back because that was what I was supposed to do, even as the lie settled heavier between us.

Don't let your guilt ruin this moment, my subconscious warned.

"Did I ever tell you?" Sebastian said, giving my hand a gentle tug as he led me toward the bed.

"Tell me what?" I asked.

"That you have a beautiful smile." His voice dropped to a gentler tone as he lowered himself onto the mattress.

My lips curved without permission, the smile deepening until it nearly became a grin. I brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I hear that a lot."

His brows lifted slightly. "From who?"

He sat on the edge of the bed then, pulling me closer until I stood between his knees. He looked up at me, eyes steady, curious.

"People..." My voice wavered as I answered.

My hair slipped forward, grazing my cheek, and I became acutely aware of how close he was. He had only touched my hand, yet my body reacted as if he had done much more.

"Then you should warn people before you smile," he murmured, tipping backward and taking me with him. "It's distracting."

He landed on the mattress first and patted the empty space beside him.

"You should shower before lying on the bed." I scolded, though the protest was weak. He ignored it anyway, tugging me down until I was beside him.

"You're tense." He said quietly, studying my face.

My pulse skidded, every nerve awake to the quiet intensity of his gaze. I fixed my gaze on the ceiling instead, afraid of what he might see if I looked back. "You make it hard not to be." I whispered.

A low chuckle vibrated against my hair. "I'll take that as a compliment."

My eyes betrayed me, drifting back to him. A glance turned into a stare. I hadn't known that simply looking at someone-this quietly, this closely-could make me feel so alive, so seen. It made me want more, even if I didn't know what more was yet.

So when Sebastian shifted closer, I didn't flinch. When his thumb traced slow, absent circles at my waist and lingered at my stomach, I stayed still, even as my breathing grew shallow.

My lips parted instinctively when I felt his breath brush my cheek, his mouth lowering closer, and closer. I closed my eyes, waiting.

But his lips never found mine.

Instead, he kissed my chin, then lingered, trailing soft, deliberate kisses up my cheek.

Disappointment flickered briefly but it was quickly swallowed by the sensation blooming through me. A sound I didn't recognize slipped from my lips as my hands rose to his neck, fingers curling there, holding him.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead and rested his brow against mine, just for a heartbeat, before drifting to my temple. His body shuddered as he exhaled, as though he was breathing me in.

Another breath followed, deeper this time. He stayed there.

"Sebastian..." I whispered.

"Stay." He purred, his voice low, vibrating against my skin. "Let's stay like this for a while."

And for once, I didn't feel the urge to run.

"If I fall asleep like this," he murmured, his voice already slipping to sleep, "promise you won't disappear."

I stilled.

"Why do you think I'd disappear?" I asked softly.

He shifted, settling his head more comfortably against my shoulder. "You're always running, he whispered, the words slurring slightly. "Like I scare you."

The words stunned me. I hadn't realized he noticed. Not once had I thought my distance was visible to him. It wasn't fear that made me pull away, but how could I explain that now?

Before I could speak, he stirred again, his voice softer, blurred by sleep. "So... promise me."

My fingers slid into his hair, gentle. "I promise."

Almost instantly, his breathing slowed, evening out, his body relaxing as if the promise itself had anchored him. I smiled despite myself, continuing to trace lazy patterns along his scalp, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

"You really should've showered before sleeping." I whispered teasingly, studying the familiar lines of his face as though I were seeing them for the first time. My hand lifted, drawn toward his lashes-

Then his lips parted.

"Irene."

The name fell from him like a ghost.

My hand stilled midair, then trembled as I pulled it back. The warmth in my chest collapsed into something aching. Even now, her name still found its way out of him.

And it shattered me.