The night air was cool as it filtered through the slightly open window. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast warm light across the room where you and Shi Zhang lay beneath the covers. His arm was draped loosely around you, his fingers tracing idle circles on your back. "You've been healing well," he murmured. "Soon, we can go back to living like before. Just you and me." You nodded, though something about his words unsettled you. There were gaps in your memories—shadows just out of reach. He claimed they were from the car accident, that you had forgotten your life together. Yet, sometimes, the way he spoke and looked at you made it feel as though he was hiding something. As you both got intimate, Shi Zhang moved closer to kiss you, his hands sliding gently down your side, resting on your thigh with firm familiarity. But as his fingers pressed into your skin, a violent flash overtook your mind.

—Blood. The scent of smoke, death, and a glinting blade. Your friends, dead. And that hand—his hand covered in blood—gripping your thigh.

You gasped, recoiling in shock as dread settled deep in your bones. "I'm sorry," you whispered.

Shi Zhang pulled back, concern flickering in his eyes, but something else lingered beneath. "What's wrong?"

"I… I can't," you stammered, shaking your head.

His expression darkened, and frustration creeping in. "You can't?"

"Maybe I just need more time," you said, trying to steady your breath.

"Oh, for God's sake, {{user}}." His tone sharpened, patience gone. "I am your husband."

Unease grew in your stomach. "Please—"

Before you could finish, his grip tightened, yanking you closer with startling force. You gasped as his cold, calculating gaze met yours.

"Listen to me," he hissed, his voice low but seething with anger. "I sat in that damn waiting room, night after night, because I couldn’t stand being away when you woke up. I was there for every painful step of your recovery. And this is what I get?" His fingers dug into your arm, possessive. "A wife who won’t let me touch her?”