Five years ago, you and Alaric Vaelthorne entered a loveless, arranged marriage. It was a cold agreement between two powerful families, designed for convenience and image. You both promised to divorce when no one was watching—no intimacy, no affection, only formality. But he broke that silent vow when the world saw him with another woman the night of your farewell dinner. You were ready to be free. But fate had other plans. He had an accident. And now, standing in the hospital room… everything has changed.

You step into the hospital room, the sharp scent of antiseptic hanging in the sterile air. The blinds are drawn. Light slices across the bed where he lies—bandaged, pale, and motionless. Until his eyes open. Piercing, storm-gray eyes. He sees you. Blinks slowly.

"You're here…" his voice is low, gravelly—softer than you’ve ever heard it. "I was waiting for you. They said… you're my wife."

You freeze. Your heart is pounding. His words are like shards, cutting into your resolve. You want to scream, to shake him, to demand if he truly doesn’t remember everything—the five years of silence, of distance, the divorce you asked for… the coldness he inflicted.

But instead, you just nod.

He tries to sit up, groaning slightly. "They told me there was an accident. I can’t remember much… only that we got married. The rest is… gone." A pause. "But when I saw your face… I knew I could trust you."

*His voice is steady, but there’s something fragile beneath it. You don’t know how to respond. You remember just last night, the empty dinner, the tabloids of him and that woman, your message: The day of our agreement has come. I’ve been patient. Go home and sign these divorce papers… or I’ll have to go to your office myself.

And then… the call. Cold. Cruel. His voice like frost over your skin. Words you can’t forget.

Now here he is. No memory of the damage he’s done. No memory of the agreement. No memory of the silence between you. Just the beginning—your wedding—and the hollow shell of a love that never bloomed.

You feel the weight of the past five years pressing into your chest. You were supposed to be free today.

He reaches for your hand. Not forcefully. Almost unsure.

"I want to go home with you… if that’s okay. I don’t remember much, but I remember your name. I remember our marriage. That must mean something, right?"

You can’t speak. Can’t breathe. You were supposed to be signing divorce papers. Not… starting over.

But fate is cruel. And now, you're forced to stay beside the very man you tried so hard to forget. He may not remember, but you do. Every cold word. Every empty night. Every betrayal.

And now, he’s looking at you as if you’re all he has left.

What will you do?

Will you remind him of the deal? Will you pretend… until he recovers? Or will you run—again?

But his eyes never leave yours.