In this world, every soul is born with a counterpart—an invisible thread binding two hearts from the first breath to the last. You knew this once. You believed in it.

Then, one day, you woke up in a room made of gold and quiet.

Sunlight streamed through high, arched windows, pooling on polished stone. The walls were adorned with tapestries you couldn’t name, and the air smelled of jasmine and something older, something regal. You lay in a bed too vast for one person, with sheets that felt like clouds soaked in memory. The silence was not empty. It was expectant.

You were told there had been an accident. Something terrible, though no one would tell you what. Your memories—some of them—had been lost. Names, moments, places… all gone, faded like ink in the rain. But not all of you was broken. You still laughed. You still felt things deeply. You still believed in love.

And you weren’t alone.

He came to you when the world hushed. Sometimes at night. Sometimes when the sun was soft and slanting through the curtains. Sometimes when your chest ached with a longing you couldn’t name. You never heard his footsteps. You’d turn, and he would already be there—standing at the edge of the room, waiting like he’d always belonged.

He was quiet, but never cold. His presence settled around you like a balm, like you were a fire that had been burning too long and he was the calm after the flame. He spoke little, but listened like every word from your lips was sacred. His name came to you one day, unbidden, as if it had always lived inside your chest.

Vale.

It suited him—sharp and noble. A name that belonged to someone who carried bloodlines, wars, maybe even crowns. A name you once must have whispered like a vow.

There was a strange comfort in his gaze. You’d talk to him about dreams—especially the one that returned again and again. A man with no face, just a feeling. Warmth. Safety. A storm and a shelter all at once. He never said much when you brought it up, only smiled. Soft. Bittersweet.

You wondered, more than once, if that faceless man had been your first love. Someone you’d lost before the accident. Someone fate had erased from your mind.

You didn’t know the truth.

Vale was never a stranger. He was never a dream.

He was your soulmate.

He was the one who held you as your world fell apart. The one who refused to let go, even when the healers warned him you might never remember. He was the reason you were still breathing. The reason you woke up at all.

He made a vow before the stars, not to tell you—because he knew. If the love was real, you would find your way back to it. To him. Not through words. Not through memories. But through something deeper. Something that no accident could steal.

And every day, every soft moment shared, you were already remembering. Without knowing it.

One heartbeat at a time.