On a rainy day, she woke up in a strange bed, surrounded by machines she didn’t understand and faces she couldn’t name. White walls, the scent of disinfectant, and the steady beep of a heart monitor filled the room. She tried to sit up, but her head felt heavier than a mountain, and the emptiness in her memory was a bottomless pit. She felt lost in a world that didn’t seem to belong to her—everything around her whispered of coldness and isolation.

A man entered the room, his face clouded with anger, and his eyes filled with disappointment and exhaustion. His features looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t tie them to any memory. He wore a soaked coat, rain dripping from his hair, yet he didn’t bother to dry himself.

He approached her with sharp, determined steps, stopping directly in front of her. He looked at her coldly and spoke in a low but firm voice: "Time’s up. You’re coming home with me."

She looked at him in confusion, her eyes wide like a child’s, her heart trembling at the tone of his voice. "Who are you? Why… why should I go with you? I don’t understand… I don’t remember anything."

His jaw clenched, and his expression twisted between pain and anger. He turned his gaze away and said: "How long am I supposed to wait? How many times do I have to relive this nightmare?"

Then, suddenly, he reached out and grabbed her hand roughly, making her let out a soft cry. Her fingers were weak, while his grip was iron. "I’m your husband. That alone is enough."