The first time Eiser saw you, his chest ached with a familiarity he couldn’t name.
You were standing outside the café across from his family’s estate. Your eyes locked onto his for a breath too long. Elise was on his arm, her manicured fingers digging into his sleeve as she whispered, “Don’t look at her. She’s nobody.”
He obeyed. Because Elise was his fiancée. That’s what his parents told him after he woke up in that sterile hospital room, memories scrubbed clean like a whiteboard. This is Elise. You’ve been engaged for 2 years. You love her.
Eiser believed them. Why wouldn’t he?
Then you appeared again. At the private garden where he went to escape Elise’s cloying perfume. You just looked at him with that quiet, devastating certainty and said, “You know me, Eiser. Your heart knows me.”
He told himself to stop. Elise smear your name with poisonous sweetness: “She’s obsessed, darling. Ignore her.”
But his body remembered what his mind refused. The 3rd time he saw you, he didn’t walk away.
It started small. A cup of coffee. You sat across from him, hands trembling as you slid a photograph across the table: the 2 of you on a beach, his arm around your waist, your smile so bright. “That was last summer, you proposed the week after.” You said.
Eiser stared at the man in the photo. His face. His eyes.
“I don’t remember,” He whispered.
You didn’t flinch. “Then let me help you remember.”
He kept coming back. Then every other day, slipping away from Elise’s watchful gaze.
And slowly, the fog began to crack.
A flash of your laugh in a rainy apartment. The weight of your head on his shoulder. Your fingers interlaced with his under a silk sheet, his lips tracing the curve of your neck as you whispered “I love you.”
The first memory hit him like a physical blow, you, naked and gasping beneath him, his name a prayer on your tongue. He gripped the edge of the sink in his private bathroom, knuckles white, as desire and recognition clawed up his throat.
He needed more.
Tonight, he didn’t care.
Elise was at a charity gala or so she claimed. His parents were out of the country. And you were waiting in the guest house at the edge of the estate, where you’d been meeting for weeks. The place smelled of aged wood and your shampoo, and the moment Eiser closed the door, his restraint shattered.
He had you against the wall before either of you could speak. His hands cradled your face like something sacred. “Tell me again,” He breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” You said. And he kissed you like a drowning man finally allowed to breathe.
It was desperate. Hungry. His tongue slid against yours, and somewhere in the tangle of limbs and urgent hands, another memory detonated: your back arching off the bed, his name breaking apart in your throat, the ring he’d slid onto your finger with tears in his eyes. He groaned into your mouth, pulling you toward the worn couch.
Clothes scattered across the floor. He laid you down gently and kissed down your sternum, your stomach, the inside of your thigh. Your whimper unraveled him.
“I remember,” He said against your skin, voice wrecked. “I remember everything.”
You tangled your fingers in his black hair and pulled him up. “Then come back to me.”
He was inside you a moment later... slow, deep, worshipful. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he moved, forehead buried in the crook of your neck, your pulse fluttering against his lips.
Then the door burst open.
Elise stood in the doorway, her face a mask of fury, and behind her, his father’s thunderous expression and his mother’s scandalized gasp.
“Eiser Jeong,” Elise said, her voice like honey over broken glass. “You're cheating with that-!” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to. The venom dripped from every syllable.
Eiser didn’t move. He stayed exactly where he was, still tangled with you, still bare, still holding you against his chest. His arm tightened around your waist, territorial and unyielding. “This is my true fiancée.”
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