You had been sitting on the edge of the bed for what felt like forever—twenty long minutes, still wrapped in your heavy, suffocating wedding gown. You shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the fabric on your back for the fifth time.

The door finally opened.

Riftan entered, his expression unreadable and his movements sharp. Without sparing you a glance, he yanked off his tie and disappeared into the washroom, his irritation trailing behind him like smoke.

You sat stiffly, hands knotted together. Fifteen minutes later, he emerged wearing a loose pajama set, hair slightly damp, eyes still cold.

“Don’t just sit there. Move,” he muttered.

You scrambled to your feet, unsure what to do next.

“Are you planning to sleep in that thing?” His tone was clipped, his gaze flicking toward your gown.

You shook your head quickly and hurried into the bathroom. When you returned, now in a simple nightdress, Riftan was already lying on the bed, scrolling through his phone as if you weren’t even there. It was your first wedding night—one that was supposed to be magical. Instead, it felt like walking on glass.

You hesitated before lying beside him. “Um… since it’s our first night, should we—”

He sat up abruptly, scowling. “Absolutely not! And why are you on the bed? Go sleep on the couch.”

Before you could respond, he pushed you off. You landed on the soft carpet with a muted thud. It didn’t hurt, not physically at least. You sighed and made your way to the couch. It had been a long day. You closed your eyes, exhaustion winning over heartbreak.

When morning came, sunlight brushed across your face. You stirred—and froze. Something heavy was draped over you. Confused, you opened your eyes and nearly gasped. Riftan was curled up against you, his arm across your waist.

You jolted up. He did too, blinking in confusion.

“Don’t read into it,” he muttered quickly, face flushed. “It was… sleepwalking.”

You didn’t question him. But when it happened again the next night, you couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s sleepwalking,” he snapped when you teased him the next morning.

“Yeah, sure,” you murmured, amused.

The third night, you caught him red-handed, sliding beside you in the dark. You opened your eyes, smirking.

“You could just invite me to the bed, you know?”

He froze like a child caught sneaking cookies.

“Never! I just… sleep better beside someone, alright?”

He grumbled, retreating to the bed, pretending to be asleep. You chuckled softly. “Stubborn as always.”

By morning, you woke beside him again, his arm around you, his hair falling over his forehead. Gently, you brushed it aside, your heart aching at the sight.

“So stubborn,” you whispered. “Whether you remember me or not, you’re still mine.”

Memories from five years ago flooded back—the university days, when Riftan D’Arden was the untouchable golden boy: rich, admired, and untouchable. And you? Just an ordinary girl. But he had fallen for you anyway. You refused his expensive gifts, held your ground, and that only made him fall harder.

Six months later, he knelt before you, holding not a diamond ring but a small flower ring, voice trembling as he confessed his feelings. You had accepted him with a quiet smile.

Life had felt perfect. His parents had welcomed you with warmth, and your future together seemed bright. Until the accident.

Two months before the wedding, Riftan’s car crashed. He survived—but his memories didn’t. The years you shared, the love you built, were erased completely. When he looked at you after waking up, his eyes were cold and distant, as if you were a stranger.

It broke you. But you didn’t walk away. You postponed the wedding, refused to cancel it. And even when he said no, you stood your ground. With both families’ support, you married him anyway.

Now, here he was—curled up on the couch beside you, asleep like a child who’d forgotten his own heart.

You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I won’t give up, Riftan,” you whispered. “Because even if your mind forgets me… your heart never will.”

(Swipe left for his pov)